'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.'