Covenant Of The Flame Read online

The neutral-faced men kept staring at him.

  'Tess, I showed good faith. I came alone. I did everything you asked. Now, for heaven's sake, tell me what this is all about.'

  The man in front interrupted. 'How did you know that Tess and Lieutenant Craig were supposed to contact the Alexandria police?'

  'I didn't,' Chatham said.

  'That doesn't make sense,' Chatham heard behind him.

  Chatham whirled reflexively to face the rugged-looking man next to Tess.

  'You phoned Chief Farley,' the man said. 'Why?'

  Chatham felt disoriented, having glanced forward, then back, from the neutral-faced man in front to the rugged-faced man in the rear. 'Are you Lieutenant Craig?'

  'Answer my question.' The burly man's voice was gravelly. 'If you didn't know that Tess and I were supposed to contact Chief Farley, why did you phone him?'

  'Because I promised I would.'

  Tess leaned suddenly near, her strong fingers clutching Chatham's arm. 'Promised who?'

  'Kenneth Madden.'

  'Madden?'The man in front spoke abruptly. 'From the CIA?'

  Chatham spun in the forward direction, his mind reeling, even more disoriented. 'Yes, the Deputy Director of Covert Operations.'

  'What's he got to do with-? Why would Madden ask you to phone the Alexandria police?'

  'Because the CIA doesn't have domestic jurisdiction. It was easier and it raised less questions if the Bureau got in touch with the local police.'

  'Why?' the rugged man next to Tess demanded.

  'It comes down to pride. The local police don't like us to get involved if the crime's not the kind that automatically makes it our business. But the Alexandria police would have liked it even less if the CIA tried to get involved. That for sure would have caused hard feelings, not to mention a lot of angry phone calls. The point is' - Chatham jerked his gaze from the rugged man in back toward Tess beside him - 'you don't understand how much your father's friends are concerned about you. They're shocked about your mother's death. They're afraid that you're in danger. So they used the system. They asked me to contact the Alexandria police, the logical law-enforcement officials you'd ask for protection. But your father's friends want to give you greater protection.'

  'By "friends," you mean the CIA and Kenneth Madden.' From the front seat, the neutral-faced man's stern voice made Chatham whirl again.

  'That's right,' Chatham said. 'For Tess. For the sake of her father's memory. But what you still don't understand is that the urge to protect her goes far beyond the Bureau and the Agency. Much, much higher.'

  'Where?'

  'To the White House.'

  Tess spoke, and Chatham whirled yet again.

  'You're telling me' - Tess squeezed Chatham's arm more.severely -'that the president himself knows I'm in danger and wants to protect me?'

  'No. The vice president.'

  'Alan Gerrard?' The burly man next to Tess looked puzzled.

  'Hey, I know what the columnists write about him,' Chatham said. 'But at least he cares. He told Madden to get in touch with me, and Madden in turn asked me to phone Chief Farley. I'm never happy working with the Agency. Their mandate is foreign, ours is here at home, and it's important to keep those jurisdictions separate. But when I get an order from the vice president, as long as I'm not being asked to break the law, I do my best to comply. The basic message is, I'm supposed to have Tess call Madden.'

  'And Madden claims he'll protect her?' the man in front asked.

  'No, Madden's just a relay. It's the vice president who wants to protect her. And that means, I assume, that he intends to use the Secret Service.'

  Tess shook her head. 'Why would he take such an interest in me?'

  'I told you, because of your father. Like so many government officials, Gerrard felt close to your father, and Gerrard wants the government to pay back its debt to your father - for his bravery and his refusal to talk under torture - by making sure you're protected.'

  As the van crossed back toward Virginia, its occupants silently considered what Chatham had just explained. Headlights flashed past in the opposite lanes.

  Chatham broke the silence. 'Who are these heretics you keep mentioning?'

  Tess glanced toward the man in front, her eyebrows raised as if asking permission.

  The man nodded. 'You know the limitations.'

  Tess sighed. 'Eric, I hope you've got an open mind.'

  'After several years as the Bureau's director, not much surprises me anymore. Go ahead. Try me.'

  'In twelve forty-four.'

  It took a half hour. Chatham listened, astonished, never interrupting. In the end, he once more used the penlight to study the photograph of the bas-relief statue. 'And that's all of it. There's nothing more.'

  'Not quite,' the man in the front said. 'But it's all you need to know.'

  'I assume the rest of it concerns you and your involvement in this,' Chatham said.

  'Don't assume anything. What you already know is enough to put you in danger. Further knowledge would put you at an even greater risk. What do you intend to do?'

  'To be honest, if I hadn't seen these photographs. if Tess herself hadn't been the one who told me about this.'

  'It's true, Eric. Every word of it.' Tess stared emphatically into his eyes.

  'But something this outrageous. Obviously I have to verify it.'

  'Then you'll begin an investigation?'

  'Absolutely.'

  'I hope, discreetly,' the man in front said. 'Do it yourself. Trust no one. The vermin hide where you least suspect them. Remember what happened to Brian Hamilton. If you're not cautious, you'll be their next victim.'

  'Give me credit. I wasn't always a bureaucrat,' Chatham said proudly. 'For thirteen years, before I became an executive, I was a damned fine agent. I haven't forgotten how to conduct an investigation without drawing attention to myself.'

  'Then do it,' the man in front said. 'Prove how skilled you are.'

  'How can I get in touch with you? How do I report what I've learned?'

  'No problem. We'll get in touch with you.'

  'And expertly, I'm sure. But I don't know why I should trust you,' Chatham said.

  'Because of Remington Drake, Melinda Drake, Brian Hamilton, and Tess.'

  'By all means, because of Tess, because of the living.'

  'We'll need Madden's phone number.'

  'Here. This card has his private number.' Chatham frowned. 'But I still can't adjust to the implications. If you're right, if this isn't a delusion, then Madden and Gerrard, the CIA's covert-op deputy director and the president's next-in-line, might be part of this.'

  'As I told you, the vermin hide where you least suspect them.' The man in front glanced through the windshield. 'Ah, I see that our timing is perfect. The minute we complete our business, we arrive outside your home. By the way, your car has been moved from the parking lot at the Lincoln Memorial. You'll find it outside your garage.'

  'And I'll take a guess that the man who delivered it resembled me.'

  'Precisely. He strolled toward the back of your house and disappeared.'

  'I wish you worked for me,' Chatham said.

  'Be satisfied we're working with you.'

  As the van stopped, the man who'd escorted Chatham from the Lincoln Memorial slid open the side hatch, got out, and gestured for the Bureau's director to leave.

  'Well, I can't say I've enjoyed the ride,' Chatham said, 'but it certainly has been informative, no matter how disturbing it was.'

  'What we hoped you'd feel is not so much disturbed as.' The man in front hesitated.

  'Frightened?'

  'Yes.'

  'Then,' Chatham said, 'you've definitely achieved your intention.'

  THREE

  As the van pulled away from the shadowy curb, as Tess, Craig and the members of Father Baldwin's team watched Chatham walk past his car in the driveway and enter his large, attractive house, Father Baldwin asked, 'Is he one of them?'

  That's hard
to know,' Craig said. 'I looked at him closely. He doesn't have gray eyes.'

  'That means nothing,' Father Baldwin said. 'Only some of the vermin retain that characteristic. What's more, they sometimes use tinted contact lenses to disguise the color of their irises.'

  'I watched Chatham closely as well,' Tess said. 'He responded the way he should have to what I told him. He was believable.'

  'Of course,' Father Baldwin said. 'A true professional is always believable. I take that for granted. So I don't know whether to trust him. That's why, in his absence, his phone has been tapped, his home has been bugged, and so has his office. He brags that his security measures are checked every morning, but his precautions are hardly adequate against our own techniques. From this moment, every word that he says will be monitored. He'll be followed by the finest surveillance. And if he makes the wrong phone call, if he sees the wrong person, if he says the wrong words, we'll know that he's one of the vermin.'

  'But I don't think he is,' Tess said.

  That remains to be determined,' Father Baldwin said. 'What also remains to be determined is the status of Kenneth Madden and Alan Gerrard. We keep moving upward. Perhaps those next-to-the highest officials in the CIA and the White House are as well-intentioned as you want to believe that Chatham is. But the vermin give off an odor, and my nostrils feel assaulted. The odor is very strong. Make the call.'

  'To Madden?'

  'Yes. Follow the the schedule you were given. Proceed up the bureaucratic level. We'll find the vermin eventually.'

  'All I want is to stay alive,' Tess said. 'I'm not sure I want to keep taking the risk of.'

  'Remember, they'll kill you unless you give us the chance to exterminate them.'

  'But if I make the call and I go through the CIA, through Madden and then to the Executive Branch to Gerrard, I'll still be in danger,' Tess said.

  'Craig and I will be with you, though,' Father Baldwin said. 'And keep in mind, the shoes that both of you were given have homing devices in the heels along with microphones. My operatives will always know where you are and whether you're in danger.'

  'Small comfort if I'm being killed while your men try to get to me.'

  'Tess, without us, your death is certain. With us, you and Lieutenant Craig will have a chance to enjoy the rest of your lives together.'

  'That's good enough for me,' Craig said. 'Come on, Tess. We can't give up. As long as we're being hunted, let's fight the bastards, and if we fail, at least we'll have done our best. There's no other choice.'

  'But I'm so scared.'

  'I know. For what it's worth, so am I.'

  Craig hugged her.

  'Make that phone call,' Father Baldwin said. To Madden. And after that, to.'

  FOUR

  Andrews Air Force Base. Maryland.

  One a.m. Nearly blinded by spotlights, Tess and Craig stopped their hastily rented car at the heavily guarded entrance to the tall, chain-link, barbed- wire-topped fence of the military airport.

  A broad-shouldered, wary sentry responded immediately, not needing to check the list of names on his clipboard when Tess and Craig identified themselves. 'By all means, you're expected. I.D.,' he demanded, adding with stern courtesy, 'please.'

  Tess and Craig showed their driver's licenses.

  The sentry examined the documents, compared their faces with the photographs on the licenses, and gave them directions toward the base's VIP wing.

  While Tess drove beneath the entrance's rising barrier, she and Craig heard the roar of a jet taking off beyond rows of institutional-looking buildings from which other spotlights blazed.

  'Father Baldwin lied,' Tess said. 'He promised he'd be with us.'

  'What option did he have?' Craig spread his hands. 'Baldwin couldn't come with us, not when Madden told you to meet the vice president here at Andrews. You and I have worked together long enough that I won't attract suspicion. But if we bring a stranger, an unexpected third party, it'll look like a setup. We couldn't explain Father Baldwin's presence. He'd never survive a background check. And if Gerrard is your enemy, we'd make him realize we suspected him. We'd be placing ourselves in a trap.'

  'You're telling me we're not in a trap?' Tess drove nervously toward the impressive floodlit VIP building. 'Father Baldwin's men can't possibly get inside this base if we need help.'

  'With so many sentries around, nothing's going to happen. Not here, at least. Not now.'

  'You trust those sentries?'

  'They work for the Air Force, not for Gerrard himself. They can't all be enemies.'

  'But what about later?' Tess shuddered. 'What are we doing here? Why did Madden tell us to come to this airport? Suppose Gerrard tells us to get on a jet?'

  Craig thought about it. 'We don't know for sure that Gerrard wants to kill you. Or Madden either. All we're doing is following the sequence we were given. Chatham to Madden to.'

  'Gerrard. They sound like a fucking baseball team.'

  'Just keep control,' Craig said.

  'Hey, I'm not used to risking my life the way you are.'

  'Used to risking my life? When I started out, in a squad car patrolling the Bronx, I never got used to it. And even in Missing Persons, I still haven't. Every day I wake up, knowing that any door I knock on might have a maniac with a gun behind it.'

  'Well, we have plenty of guns around us now.'

  Tess stopped the rented Plymouth before palm-raised sentries next to the VIP building.

  'Names, please,' one of them said.

  Tess and Craig repeated the ritual.

  'Identification.'

  Again they obeyed.

  'Get out of the car, please.'

  The sentries used portable metal detectors to scan them. When one of the detectors wailed, a sentry stared aggressively toward Craig.

  'I'm a New York City police officer,' Craig said. 'I'm carrying my service revolver.'

  'Not anymore.' The sentry tugged the revolver from the holster on Craig's belt.

  Tess, who didn't have a permit to carry a handgun, had reluctantly left her pistol with Father Baldwin. She felt helpless, vulnerable.

  Distracted by the search, she hadn't noticed a man in an expensive, well-tailored suit walk toward her, appearing as if from nowhere. He was tall, pleasantly featured, in his thirties, with short brown hair, cheery eyes, and an engaging smile. 'Ms Drake, Lieutenant Craig, welcome.' He shook hands with them. 'I'm Hugh Kelly, the vice president's assistant. You arrived just in time. The vice president's looking forward to seeing you.'

  Kelly's reassuring manner made Tess feel somewhat at ease. After the chaos she'd been through, he seemed so normal, so sane that she began to wonder if she was wrong to suspect that Gerrard was a threat. At the same time, Kelly's remark about 'just in time' puzzled her.

  'Please, come with me,' he said.

  Tess expected that he'd lead them into the VIP building. Instead he guided them onto the tarmac, and after a brief walk, Tess peered ahead toward floodlights and something that abruptly made her falter.

  'My God,' she said.

  'Impressive, isn't it?' Kelly said. 'It's been on order since nineteen eighty-six. The delays have been a headache, the cost-overruns a political embarrassment, from two hundred and sixty-five million to six hundred and fifty million, but finally here she is, and I have to say, in spite of everything, the wait was worth it.'

  What Tess stared at, overwhelmed, was an aircraft six stories high and so long it would have dwarfed a football field - the hughest 747 she'd ever seen, its lines (including the bulge above its nose) incredibly sleek, exuding power, a large American flag painted on its rudder, the words UNITED STATES OF AMERICA stencilled boldly along its side, its color predominantly white with highlights of blue.

  'I've never seen.' Tess felt so awestruck that she couldn't speak for a moment. 'Even when my father was alive, I never saw. On TV, yes, in newspapers and magazines. But never in person. Up close like this. it's hard to believe. It takes my breath away.' She spoke with reverenc
e. 'Air Force One.'

  'Actually Air Force Two,' Kelly said, 'but you really can't tell them apart. Of course, the pictures you saw were of the old one. The seven-oh-seven. It had to be retired because that model was being phased out, and spare parts were hard to find. It was an awfully fine aircraft. I was sorry to see it go. But that plane can't possibly compare to this new one and its counterpart. Boeing outdid itself. This is truly one of the finest passenger jets in the world, perhaps the finest. You'll see what I mean when you board her.'