Tess darted an uncertain glance toward Craig.

'Sure.' Craig stared. 'Provided you give me your weapon.'

The stranger exhaled. 'All right, if that's what it takes.' He removed his pistol from his belt, engaged its safety mechanism, and extended it to Craig, who shoved it into a pocket of his suitcoat.

'What the hell, screw it.' Craig lowered his own weapon.

'Good. Very good,' the stranger said. 'Hurry.' He gestured, and almost by magic, equally neutral-faced, solidly built men emerged from the flowers and the side of the house, holding weapons.

There's a van in front.' The stranger cocked his head, assessing the intensity of the sirens. 'Let's go.'

'Priscilla and Professor Harding,' Tess said.

'We'll take them with us, of course.'

Again the stranger gestured. Two men raced from the flowers, lifting Priscilla and Professor Harding.

'She needs insulin,' Tess said, 'and her husband may have had a stroke.'

'It'll all be taken care of. You have my word.' The stranger pressed a hand against Tess's back. 'Move.'

As the sirens wailed closer, the group surged toward the right of the house.

Smoke wafted out of the study's window, obscuring Tess's gaze.

Then the smoke cleared, and she saw two bodies. She flinched and stared away, the front yard before her, trees and shrubs, a van looming.

'The Porsche!' Tess said. 'I got it a from a friend! She can't be involved!'

'Give me the key!'

Tess groped in her purse and threw it.

The stranger caught the key, tossed it to another man, and ordered him, 'Follow us!'

Tess and Craig scrambled into the van. Other men hurried inside with Priscilla and Richard, slamming the van's side hatch shut. A driver stomped the accelerator, squealing away from the curb.

Behind the van, the Porsche sped to follow. The two vehicles rounded a corner, disappearing from the street, just as Tess, bewildered, heard the approaching sirens wail toward the burning house, nearing it from a different direction.

'So, all right,' Craig said, hoarse. 'You claim you saved our lives. So we got away. So what do you want from us?'

The stranger peered backward from the passenger seat. 'Very simple.' He scowled. 'Your help. To eliminate the vermin.'

'What?'

'This isn't the time or place to discuss it,' the stranger said. 'Arrangements have to be made. Your friends need medical attention, and several of our associates have been-'

'Hold it,' Tess said, glancing toward the rear window. 'We're being followed. Behind the Porsche.'

'That UPS truck and the gray sedan?' The stranger nodded. 'They belong – or used to belong – to several of our associates. The vermin executed those two squads before attacking the house.'

'Executed?' Craig demanded.

The stranger ignored the interruption. 'We found the vehicles, the corpses inside them, a block apart as we arrived. The evidence indicates that nerve gas was used. Members of my own team now drive those vehicles. Security and honor insist. We must not abandon our dead. The corpses of our brave departed require the proper rites, honorable burial in consecrated ground. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.'

'Et lux perpetua luceat eis,' the other men added, somber, reverential.

Tess shook her head, confused, astonished. At first, she thought she was hearing gibberish. Then, abruptly, the realization startling her, she blurted, 'You're praying! In Latin?'

The stranger squinted. 'Do you understand what it means?'

'No.' Tess fought to speak. 'I'm a Catholic, but…'

The stranger sighed. 'Of course. You wouldn't be able to translate. You're too young to know what the mass sounded like before Vatican Two ordered it changed from Latin into the vernacular. "Grant them eternal rest, Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them." It's from the mass for the dead.'

Even more startled, Tess suddenly realized something else. 'My God, whatever you are, you're also…!'

'Also what?' The stranger studied her.

'Priests!'

'Well,' the stranger said, 'that gives us something else to discuss.'

EIGHTEEN

The grimy-windowed rectory, behind a boarded-up Gothic church on the outskirts of Washington, had a weed-grown parking lot. The UPS truck and the gray sedan had long since veered away. Only the van and the Porsche remained.

As the stranger stepped from the van, joining Tess and Craig who left the side hatch, he explained, 'This is one of many churches that the Vatican's dwindling finances have forced the Curia to sell. Not to worry. We're safe here. Did you notice the sign in front?'

'F and S Realty,' Tess said.

'You're very observant. It's our own corporation. We're negotiating the sale ourselves. Eliminating the middle man, so to speak.'

'Unless it's a middle woman,' Tess said.

'By all means,' the stranger said. 'I did not intend to be sexist. For now, however, we still control this church and the rectory. The neighbors will assume you're potential buyers. No one who lives in this area will bother us.'

'Except… Unless…' Tess glanced around nervously.

'You mean, the vermin? None of your attackers survived to follow. The others don't know about this place. I repeat, we're safe here.'

'You keep calling them "vermin",' Craig said.

'A precise description.'

'Where did the UPS truck and the gray sedan go?' Tess asked.

'I assumed you understood from my earlier remarks. Our departed associates require a mass for the dead. It's being arranged.'

'And burial in consecrated ground,' Tess said.

'Yes. For the good of their souls… The Porsche. Where does it belong?'

Tess gave the address. So much had happened, she felt as if days instead of hours had passed since she'd left the comfort of Mrs Caudill's home. 'I'd be grateful if the authorities couldn't trace the car to her.'

'I guarantee that,' the stranger said. 'As long as you remember what you just promised.'

'Promised?'

That you'll be grateful.'

Tess squirmed.

The stranger approached and spoke to the Porsche's driver. With a nod, the man backed the sportscar expertly from the lot and drove away.

'And,' Tess said, 'my friends.'

'Richard? Priscilla? Like you, Tess, I'm concerned about them,' the stranger said.

'You know my name?'

'More than that. I know virtually everything about you. Including your relationship with Lieutenant Craig. My briefing was thorough. The men in the van have paramedical training. They're monitoring the heartbeat and respiration of your friends. Richard and Priscilla are stable. But they do need further help. So my driver and a paramedic will deliver them to a doctor at a private clinic that we control. The authorities won't be able to question your friends until the doctor, who works for us, has taught them how and what to answer. In the meantime, Priscilla and Richard will be well taken care of.'

'Thank you,' Tess breathed.

'I don't need thanks. What I insist on is what you promised – gratitude,' the stranger said. He motioned toward the driver in the van, who steered from the lot and headed toward the clinic.

'Gratitude?' Craig rested his hand on the stranger's weapon, which he'd shoved in a pocket of his suitcoat.

Three of the neutral-faced men gripped pistols and flanked him.

'Yes,' Craig said. 'Of course. By all means. What am I thinking of? Gratitude!'

'So why don't we go inside the rectory,' the stranger said, 'and discuss how glad you are to be alive? And discuss our mutual problem? And discuss the vermin?'

'The vermin.' Tess jerked up her arms, assaulted by insanity. 'Damn. You bet. The vermin. We certainly have to discuss the-'

'You're verging on lack of control,' the stranger said. 'I urge you, don't lose it.'