'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 word 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?'