Tess nodded soberly. Take away the reference to the Father, substitute Mithras, and it matches everything you've told me.'

'But there's something I don't understand,' Craig said. 'Why the Scofield edition of the Bible? Is that significant?'

'Oh, very much,' Priscilla said. 'When Ronald Reagan was president, most of America's foreign policy was based on Scofield's interpretation of the Bible.' She studied another photograph. 'Here's an underlined section from Scofield's introduction. The Bible documents the beginning of human history and its end.' Priscilla glanced up. The climax of the Bible, John's Book of Revelations, describes the end of the world. Ronald Reagan believed that the end – the Apocalypse – was about to occur, that a cosmic battle between good and evil, God and Satan, was about to take place. Remember all that business about the Soviets being the Evil Empire? Reagan also believed that in the cosmic battle, goodness would triumph. I suspect that's why he encouraged confrontation with the Soviets, to begin Armageddon, with the total confidence that the United States – in his opinion, the only good – would triumph.'

'Madness,' Craig said.

'But also very much like Mithraism, provided you think of Satan as an evil god and not a fallen angel,' Priscilla said. 'In that respect, it's not at all surprising that Joseph Martin kept an abbreviated version of this Bible near his bedside.'

'Keep going,' Craig said. The other books I saw on Joseph Martin's shelf. The Millennium. The Last Days of the Planet Earth:

Priscilla set down the magnifying glass. 'Obviously, Joseph Martin was obsessed by the impending year two thousand. Each millennium is a traditional time of crisis, every thousand years a time of fear, an apprehension that the world will disintegrate.'

'And this time,' Professor Harding said, 'given the poisons that wither my lilies, the prediction might not be wrong. The Last Days of the Planet Earth! I thank the Lord I'll be dead before that happens.'

'Richard, if you die before me, I'll never forgive you,' Priscilla said.

Craig, despite his distress, couldn't help smiling. 'I wish my former marriage had been as good as yours.'

'We survive,' Priscilla said.

'Yes,' Craig said. 'Survival.' He put his hand on Tess's shoulder.

Electricity jumped, making her tingle.

Craig stood. 'I'd better phone the Alexandria police chief. He and I will get you to a safe house, Tess. Richard and Priscilla, you'll be out of this. In no danger.'

'I hope,' Tess said.

'The nearest phone is in the kitchen.' Professor Harding pointed. 'To the left. Down the hallway.'

With fondness, Tess watched Craig start to leave.

But at once Craig hesitated and swung back, frowning. 'There's one thing I still don't understand. Nothing you've said explains it. I'm really bugged by… Tess, if Joseph Martin believed in Mithras, and if the people trying to kill you believe in Mithras, why did they kill him?'

The study became silent. No one was able to answer.

Craig frowned harder. 'I mean, it just doesn't make sense. Why did they turn against one of their own?' Shaking his head in confusion, he continued from the study.

Yes, Tess thought. Why did they hunt Joseph down and set fire to him? Troubled by the question, she watched Craig enter the hallway.

SIXTEEN

And abruptly she frowned even harder than Craig had.

Because Craig didn't pivot to the left toward the phone in the kitchen, as he'd been told.

Instead he paused, glanced sharply to the right, and dove to the floor, at the same time drawing his revolver.

No! Tess thought.

With a cringe, she heard two muffled spits, then the ear-stunning roar of Craig's revolver. Once! Twice!

Priscilla screamed.

Craig surged from the floor, scrambling down the corridor to his right.

Despite the ringing in her ears, Tess heard a man groaning. Paralysis seized her. Biting her lip, she forced herself into action, grabbed her pistol, and lunged toward the hallway. The stench of cordite assaulted her nostrils. Spinning, using the doorjamb for cover, aiming to the right, she saw two men sprawled on the floor in the hallway. Craig kicked pistols from their hands, leapt over their bodies, and slammed the front door shut, locking it, crouching below the door's window.

But I shut and locked that door after Craig arrived! Tess thought. How did-?

One of the men kept groaning. With a sudden gagging sound, he trembled and no longer moved. A pool of blood widened on the hardwood floor around both men. Stunned, Tess gaped at the crimson stain on each man's chest, where Craig's bullets had struck them.

Adrenaline scalded her stomach. Even so, Tess felt cold. She stared past the corpses toward their pistols, more appalled, noting that the weapons were equipped with silencers.

'Get down!' Craig ordered, checking to make sure that the men were dead.

Tess hurriedly obeyed. 'How did they-?'

'Picked the lock!' Craig said. They must have listened outside the study window! They knew where we were! They decided to take the chance that we wouldn't hear them sneak inside!' Staying low, he risked furtive glances through the door's window, tensely darting his gaze this way and that, scanning the porch. 'I don't see any other-'

The back door!' Tess said. In a rush, she turned, charging down the hallway toward the kitchen.

'Be careful!' Craig warned.

She barely heard him, too preoccupied by an urgent fear.

The hallway became a blur.

But the moment Tess entered the kitchen, she saw with appalling clarity.

Outside, on the back porch, a man smashed his gloved fist through the kitchen door's window.

Tess heard shards of glass fall, crashing into smaller pieces on the floor. At the same instant, the man thrust his hand through the jagged hole in the window, groping for the lock.

Tess raised her pistol and fired.

The man's right eye exploded.

Tess didn't have time to react to the horror.

Too much! Because behind the falling man, another man raised a pistol with a silencer.

Tess was far beyond conscious decisions. Automatically, she pulled the trigger again. Her ears rang as she shot the man in the forehead. In a spray of blood, the man arched up, then down, disappearing, his no longer visible body thumping heavily on the back porch.

'Tess!' Craig yelled from the front of the house. 'Are you-?'

'All right! Yes! I'm all right!' Tess ducked behind the kitchen table, aiming toward the back door. 'God help me, I just shot two men!'

'Don't think about it! Remember, they want to shoot you!'

'Hey, I'm too scared to think! All I want to do is stay alive!'

'Keep telling yourself that! Where did you learn to shoot?'

'My father taught me!'

'Good man!'

'He's dead!'

'I know!' Craig yelled. 'Six years ago in Beirut! The bastards tortured him, but he never talked! I repeat, a damned good man! Be as strong as he was! Grab the phone! Dial nine-one-one!'

Tess scuttled backward, aiming her pistol toward the back door. She yanked the kitchen phone off the hook beside the refrigerator and urgently pressed numbers, listening.

No!

'Craig, the phone's dead!'

Priscilla screamed again.

'Stay low, Priscilla! Don't go near the windows!' Craig yelled.

'My husband!'

'What about him?'

'I think he's having a heart attack!'

'Get him down on the floor! Open his collar!' Tess shouted.

Another assassin appeared at the kitchen window.

Tess aimed and shot. The bullet plowed up his nostrils. His face erupted.

'Oh, my God!'

Tess bent over, vomiting.

'Tess!' Craig roared.

She fought to speak. 'I'm all right! Keep watching the front!'