now no more than another stud in Odile Verachten's stable. She was behind the wheel, his arm around her shoulders, his automatic again jammed into her, out of sight. As the guard at the gatehouse nodded and turned to press the release button, he leaned into her; one uncalled for move, one gesture, and she was dead. She knew it; none came.
She sped through the open gate, turning the wheel to the left. He grabbed it, his foot reaching across hers to the brake, and spun the wheel to the right. The car skidded into a half spin; he steadied it and slammed his foot over hers on the accelerator.
"What are you doing?" she cried.
"Avoiding any prearranged rendezvous." It was in her eyes; another car had been waiting on the road to Essen. For the third time, Odile Verachten was genuinely frightened.
They sped down the country road; several hundred yards ahead he could see a fork clearly in the headlights. He waited; instinctively she bore to the right. The fork was reached, the turn began; he moved his hand swiftly to the rim of the wheel and pushed it up, sending them into the left road.
"You'll kill us I" screamed the Verachten woman.
"Then both of us will go," said Taleniekov. The surrounding woods diminished; there were open spaces ahead. "That field on the right. Pull over." "What?" He raised the gun and put it against her temple. "Stop the car," he repeated.
They got out. Vasili took the keys from the ignition and put them in his pocket. He pushed her forward, into the grass, and they walked toward the middle of the field. In the distance was a farmhouse, beyond it a barn.
There were no lights; the farmers of Stadtwald were asleep. But the winter moon was brighter now than it was in the Gildenplatz.
"What are you going to doT' asked Odile.
"Find out if you have the courage you demand of your soldiers." "Taleniekov, listen to mel No matter what you do to me, you won't change anything. We're too far along. The world needs us too desperatelyl" "This world needs killers?" "To save it from killersl You talk of the shepherd. He knows. Can you doubt it? Join us. Come with us." "Perhaps I will. But I have to know where you're going.,, "Do we trade?" "Again, perhaps." "Where did you hear of the shepherdT' Vasili shook his head. "Sorry, you first. Who are the Matarese? What are they? What are they doing?" "Your first answer," said Odile, parting her stole, her hands on the neckline of her gown. She ripped it down- ward, the white buttons breaking from the threads, exposing her breasts.
"It's one we know you've found," she added.
In the moonlight Taleniekov saw it. Larger than he had seen before, a jagged circle that was part of the breast, part of the body. The mark of the Matarese. "The grave in the hills of Corsica," he said. "Per nostro cirColo.,, "It can be yours," said Odile, reaching out to him. "How many lovers have lain across these breasts and admired my very distinctive birthmark. You are the best, Taleniekov. Join the best! Let me bring you over!" "A little while ago, you said I had no choice. That you would reveal something to me, force me to turn to you. What is it?" Odile pulled the top of her gown together. "The American is dead. You are alone." "What?" "Scofield was killed." "Where?" "In Washington.
The sound of an engine interrupted her words. Headlights pierced the darkness of the road that wound out of the woods from the south; a car came into view. Then suddenly, as if suspended in a black void, it stopped on the shoulder behind the limousine. Before the headlights could be extinguished, he could see three men leaping out, the driver following. All were armed; two carried rifles. AD were predators.
"They've found me," cried Odile Verachten. "Your answer, Taleniekovl You really have no choice, you see that, don't you? Give me the gun. An order from me can change your life. Without it, you're dead." Stunned, Vasili looked behind him; the fields stretched into pastures, the pastures into darkness. Escape was not a problem-perhaps not even the right decision. Scofield dead? In Washington? He had been on his way to England; what had sent him prematurely to Washington? But Odile was not lying; he would bank his life on itl She had spoken the truth as she knew the truth-just as her offer