The Covenant Of The Flame

by David Morrell

But don't be aggressive.

  She flushed the toilet, unlocked the washroom door, and walked with feigned confidence down the hallway toward the vestibule.

  TWENTY

  In the dim light through the murky windows, Tess glanced at Craig, who sat on one of the cracked-leather chairs. He sipped from a glass of water.

  So did the other men. Several bottles and glasses had been placed on the desk.

  When the stranger handed her a glass, Tess suddenly realized how dry and thick her tongue felt. She hurriedly drank, barely tasting the cool pure liquid. She couldn't remember when she'd been this thirsty.

  She grabbed a bottle, refilled the glass, and drained it. Drops of water clung to her lips.

  When she reached to refill the glass yet again, the stranger gently put a hand on her arm. 'No. Too much at once might make you sick.'

  Tess studied him, then nodded.

  'Sit,' the stranger added. Try to relax.'

  'Come on. Relax? You've got to be kidding.' All the same, Tess moved a chair next to Craig. Its brittle leather creaked when she slumped upon it.

  'So.' The stranger raised his eyebrows. 'Is there anything else you need? Are we ready now for our talk?'

  'I'm definitely ready for answers.' Craig straightened, rigid. 'Who the hell are you? What's this all about? What's going on?'

  The stranger considered him. His brooding silence lengthened. At last he sighed. 'I can't answer your questions until you answer mine.'

  'Then we're not ready for a talk,' Craig said. 'I ran out of patience quite a while ago. I…'

  'Please,' the stranger said. 'Indulge me.' He directed his eyes toward Tess. 'How much have you discovered about the vermin? Do you understand why they want to kill you?'

  Tess frowned. 'The way you say that… Your tone. It doesn't sound as if you're puzzled. It's as if you already know the answers but wonder if I know.'

  The stranger cocked his head. 'Impressive. To repeat my earlier compliment, you're very observant. But what I know isn't the issue. Tell me. How much have you discovered?'

  Tess pivoted toward Craig, who debated, then shrugged.

  'It's a standoff,' Craig said. 'Go ahead. Tell him. Maybe he'll answer our questions.'

  'Or maybe if I do, they'll kill us.'

  'No, Tess,' the stranger said. 'Whatever happens, we are not your enemy. On the contrary.' He reached inside a pocket of his jacket and placed a ring on his finger.

  The other men followed his example.

  Their rings were dramatic. Each had a glinting golden band, a shimmering ruby embossed with a golden intersecting cross and sword.

  'Few outsiders have seen these rings,' the stranger said. 'We show them as a sign of respect, of trust, of obligation.'

  'A cross and a sword?'

  The stranger lowered his gaze toward the ring. 'An appropriate symbol. Religion and retribution. Tell me, Tess, and I'll tell you. Why do the vermin want to kill you?

  'Because of…' Confused, frightened, Tess opened her mouth.

  Hesitated.

  Then confessed. Unburdened. Revealed.

  Throughout, she glanced at Craig, who pretended to listen, his shoulders braced, while he checked the exits, never interrupting.

  Mithras. Montsegur. The treasure. Joseph's bedroom. The bas-relief statue. A war between a good god and an evil one.

  Exhausted, Tess slumped back, the cracked-leather chair sagging beneath her. They want to stop me from telling others what I know, from showing the photographs.'

  'Yes.' The stranger caressed the cross and sword on his ring. 'The photographs. Let me see them.'

  Tess fumbled in her purse and handed them over.

  The stranger's face became rigid with hate when he examined them. 'It's what we suspected. A damnable altar.'

  Craig scowled. 'So Tess was right. All of this was pointless. You haven't heard anything you didn't already know.'

  'On the contrary, I've learned a great deal.' The stranger passed the photographs to his companions, who studied them with equal loathing. 'I've learned that you know so much I can't, as I'd hoped, deceive you with half-truths. I won't be able to use you without providing a fuller explanation than I'd planned.' He brooded. 'It presents a problem.'

  'How?'

  'I need you, but I can't trust you. I can't depend on your silence. Just as the vermin are determined to protect their secrets, so we guard ours. How can I be sure that you'll stay quiet about what I tell you?'

  'Yes, it's a problem,' Craig said. 'Apparently you'll just have to trust us anyhow.'

  'Lieutenant, I'm not a fool. The moment you're free, you'll report everything you've heard to your superiors. It might be better if I released both of you right now. True, you've seen the rings. However, they tell you nothing.'

  'Let us go? Then you meant what you said?' Craig shook his head, puzzled. 'You don't intend to harm us?'

  'After saving your lives?' the stranger asked rhetorically. 'I've already shown my commitment to your safety. There's the door. It isn't locked. You're free to leave. By all means, do so.'

  'But,' Tess said, 'if you let us go, we'll be back where we started.'

  'Exactly,' the stranger said. The vermin will continue to hunt you, and without our help, I fear that the next time they'll succeed in killing you. A pity.'

  Craig's voice became husky. 'What kind of mind game are you playing?'

  'I need reassurance. Do you love this woman?'

  Craig answered without hesitation. 'Yes.'

  It made Tess proud.

  'And are you willing to admit,' the stranger continued, 'despite your best efforts, there's a good chance she'll die without our help? At the very least, that you and she will be forced to keep hiding, constantly afraid that the vermin are about to attack again?'

  Craig didn't respond.

  'Answer me!' the stranger said. 'Are you willing to condemn the woman you love to an uncertain future, cringing at the slightest sound, always terrified?'

  'Damn it, obviously I want to protect her!'

  'Then give me your word! On the soul of the woman you love, swear to me that you'll never repeat a word I say to you!'

  'So it's that way.' Craig glared.

  'Yes, Lieutenant, that way. The only way. Do I need to add that if you break your vow and tell the authorities, this woman will never trust you again?'

  Craig kept glaring.

  'And do I need to add something else?' the stranger asked. 'If you break your vow, the vermin won't be the only group that hunts her. We will. I myself would kill her to punish you if you betrayed us.'

  'You son of a bitch.'

  'Yes, yes, vulgarity vents emotion. But it settles nothing. You're avoiding my demand. Are you willing to swear? For the woman you love, are you prepared to make a solemn pledge of silence?'

  Craig's cheek muscles rippled.

  Tess couldn't restrain herself. 'Craig, tell him what he wants!' She swung toward the stranger. 'You have my word. I won't repeat anything you say.'

  'But what about you, Lieutenant?'

  Craig clenched his fists. His shoulders seemed to broaden. Slowly he swallowed. 'All right.' He exhaled forcefully. 'You've got it. Nothing means more to me than keeping Tess alive. I don't want another group trying to kill her. I give you my word. I won't betray you. But I have to tell you, I hate like hell to be threatened.'

  'Well, that's the point. A vow means nothing unless a threat is attached to its violation. Actually two points.'

  'Oh? What's the second one?'

  'You already mentioned it. What we're here to discuss… Hell.'

  TWENTY-ONE

  Tess blinked. A sharp pain attacked her forehead. 'I don't understand.'

  'Hell,' the stranger emphasized. 'Where the vermin belong. Where we've devoted ourselves to send them.'

  'I still don't…' Abruptly Tess dreaded what the stranger was going to tell her. She braced herself for another assault on her sanity. 'Why do you keep calling them vermin?'

  'No other wo
rd applies. They breed like rats. They infest like lice. They're vile, contemptible, destructive, loathesome, morally filthy, worse than plague-ridden fleas, spreading their evil, vicious, repugnant heresy.'

  The litany of hate jolted Tess's mind. She lurched back in her chair, as if she'd been pushed. 'It's time. You promised to explain. Keep your word. Who are you? In the van, I said I thought you were priests, but…'

  'Yes. Priests. But more than priests. Our mandate makes us unique. We're enforcers.'

  'What?'

  The stranger nodded, his eyes gleaming.

  Tess struggled to ask him, 'For…?'

  'The Inquisition.'

  Tess had trouble making her throat work. Her consciousness swirled.' What are you talking about? That's crazy! The Inquisition ended in the Middle Ages!'

  'No,' the stranger said. That's not correct. The Inquisition began in the Middle Ages. But it persisted for several hundred years. In fact, it wasn't officially dissolved until eighteen thirty-four.'

  Tess winced. She couldn't adjust to the realization that so cruel an institution – the relentless, widespread persecution of anyone who didn't follow strict doctrine – had survived until so recently. Its victims had been tortured, urged to recant their heresy, and if they refused, burned at the stake.

  Flames! she thought.

  Everything led back to flames!

  The stake of the Inquisition! The torch of Mithras!

  But there was more. Tess wasn't prepared as the neutral-faced stranger, his eyes gleaming brighter, continued.

  'You'll note I used the word "officially",' he said. 'In truth, the Inquisition did not end. Unofficially, amid the greatest secrecy, it remained in action. Because its necessary work had not yet been completed. Because the vermin had not yet been eradicated.'

  'You're telling us' – Craig sounded appalled – 'that a core of Inquisitors followed secret instructions from the Church and persisted in hunting down anyone who strayed from orthodox Catholicism?'

  'No, Lieutenant, that's not what I'm telling you.'

  'Then…?'

  'The Church was firm in its order to disband the Inquisition. No secret instructions were given. But secrecy was followed nonetheless, on the part of Inquisitors who felt that their crucial mission could not in conscience be interrupted. Before they died, they trained others to take up the mission, and they in turn trained others. An unbroken chain, until we now train others but more important fight the enemy.'

  Tess slumped. 'Too much.' She fought to retain her sanity. Too damned much. Just because your victims don't go to mass on Sunday?'

  'Don't trivialize! It makes no difference to me who goes to mass on Sunday. Anyone who worships God, the one God, in his or her own way, is not my concern. But those who believe in an evil god in combat with the true good Lord are by definition as evil as the god they hate. Mithraism.' The stranger almost spat. 'Albigensians. Dualists. The survivors of Montsegur. They are my enemy. They managed to escape. They took their statue with them. They hid. They festered. They spread. And now they're out of control, or to be exact, about to assume control. They killed your friend. They killed your mother! They want to kill you! I won't rest until I destroy them!'

  'Okay, just a minute. Calm down,' Craig said. 'Back up. What do you mean they're about to assume control?'

  'After they escaped from Montsegur, the small group of heretics fled from southwestern France, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and their hunters. They headed farther south into Spain, where they sought refuge in an isolated mountain valley, the range that we now call the Picos de Europa. There, they determined to replenish their cult, to learn Spain's language and customs, to try to blend, which they did successfully, practising their contemptible rites in secret. For more than two hundred years, they flourished, eventually sending contingents to other sections of Spain. After all, in case their central nest was discovered, the other nests would still have a chance to preserve their repulsive beliefs.'

  'Pamplona and Merida,' Tess said.

  The stranger's gaze intensified. 'Why do you mention those areas?'

  'Priscilla. The woman your men took to the clinic. She told me,' Tess said. 'In fact, almost everything I know about Mithraism comes from her. She used to be a professor. She's an expert in-'

  'Answer my question. What do you know about those areas?'

  'On a research trip, Priscilla saw Mithraic statues in caves near those cities.'

  'Truly, I never expected… You've told me something I didn't know. We've been trying to find the central nest. Now you've pointed me toward possible other nests.'

  'Answer my question,' Craig said. 'What do you mean they're about to assume control?'

  'After two hundred years, the heretics felt secure. But then in fourteen seventy-eight, the Spanish Inquisition began. Earlier there'd been purges throughout various other countries in Europe, but the Spanish Inquisition was by far the most extreme. Enforcers hunted heretics everywhere. No village was too small to avoid a purifier's attention. But the vermin – resourceful, resilient – fled again. To northern Africa, specifically Morocco. Taking utmost precautions, they came together for a critical secret meeting in which they decided that in order to protect their religion, they needed to counterattack, to rely on every devious means possible to guarantee their survival. The final decision was to train representatives to leave the nest, conceal their true identity, and seek power, to imbed themselves within society and gain sufficient political influence to stop the persecution. To infest! As you might expect, their initial efforts were minor. But since the fourteen hundreds, the heretics have spread, multiplied, and infiltrated every important institution in Europe and America. They've risen to the highest levels of government. It was due to their influence that the Inquisition was finally dissolved. And now the crisis is universal. They're about to assume complete control, to impose their vicious errors upon the world.'

  'Obviously you're exaggerating,' Craig said.

  'Hardly. It's impossible to exaggerate the extremes to which they've gone. The vermin are convinced that the evil god is destroying the planet. They feel an urgency as the year two thousand looms. The millennium and all it implies. Crisis. Apocalypse. Not satisfied with manipulating governments, they've organized their own Inquisition. They've sent assassins to eliminate anyone they feel is dominated by the evil god. You must have noticed the pattern. The killings. Everywhere. In Australia. Hong Kong. Brazil. Germany. Kenya. The North Atlantic. America. Industrialists. Developers. Corporate managers. Drift-net fisherman. Ivory hunters. The captain of the oil tanker that polluted and nearly destroyed the Great Barrier Reef. The vermin are executing anyone they blame for the greed, negligence, and poisons that threaten the planet.'

  'My God,' Tess said, 'you're talking about the article I've been working on! Radical environmentalists attacking…!'

  'No, not environmentalists. And when you speak of God, which God do you mean? I hope not a good god at war with an evil god,' the stranger said.

  'I don't care about that! The fact is, the planet is in danger! It has to be saved!'

  'A commendable notion,' the stranger said. 'However, if you believe in the one true God as /do, then you have to trust that God. He knows better than we do. If the planet dies, it's His will. It's part of His grand design. A punishment because of our sins. If we don't correct our ways, we'll be destroyed. But the vermin, the heretics, believe they obey a different god. A god that is non-existent. Their heresy challenges the true God's plan. And for that, they'll suffer in hell.'

  'Don't you realize?'

  'What?'

  'You're as fanatical as they are!'

  The stranger's calm reaction surprised her. The situation demands fanaticism. After all, a determined enemy requires an even more determined opponent.'

  'That's not what I meant. One god. Two gods. You think you're right. They believe they're right. The world's collapsing, and you're fighting each other about theology! If anything, I empathiz
e with the other side. At least, they're working to save the planet.'

  'But they're also trying to kill you,' the stranger said. 'And they've succeeded in killing many others. Do you condone political assassination? Do you approve of the murders of industrialists, financiers, and-?'

  'Your goal is to execute the heretics. Nothing would please you more. Killing. That's what you're about. How can you blame them for doing the same thing you do?'

  'There's a difference,' the stranger said. 'I'm engaged in a war. But I kill combatants, not civilians. In contrast, they kill without discrimination. They destroy the innocent as well as the guilty. Your mother. Her only fault was that she happened to be present when they tried to kill you. For your mother's sake, I would have expected you to want revenge.'

  'Yes, I do want someone to pay, but… Oh, Lord, help me. I'm so confused.'

  'You're not alone,' the stranger said. 'To kill contradicts my very purpose as a priest. And yet…'He lowered his gaze. 'I pledged myself to protect the faith.'

  The vestibule became silent.

  Craig took advantage of the pause. 'I've got a lot more questions.'

  'Yes. By all means.' The stranger slowly raised his head.

  'You said that the heretics hurried from Spain when the Inquisition came too close.'

  'Correct.'

  'Then they went to Morocco.'

  'Yes.'

  'Which explains Joseph Martin's fascination with The Dove's Neck Ring, a treatise on courtly love, written by a Moor who immigrated to Spain.'

  The stranger nodded.

  'That also explains why Joseph Martin looked vaguely Spanish. Swarthy. Dark-haired. With Latin features as opposed to French. Does that mean the heretics not only blended with but bred with the local population?'

  'Yes,' the stranger said. 'At the start, the group was so small that the vermin needed to replenish their gene pool. They converted their spouses to Mithraism and swore them to secrecy.' The stranger gestured. 'But you didn't mention one more detail about their features. In some descendants of the vermin, there's an unusual gene that makes their eyes gray. It's one of the few means we have to identify them.'