it off the wall. The huge cloth arced down in flames over the conference table. The fire spread, flames leaping to every comer of the enormous room Firel After the explosions. Firel Taleniekov.
Scofield ran from the window. He had done what he had to do; it was the moment to do what he so desperately wanted to do. If it were possible; if there was any hope at all. He stopped in front of the door, checking the remaining ammunition; he had conserved it well. The third and fourth charges had detonated at the base of the hill. The fifth and sixth were timed to explode within seconds.
The fifth came; he yanked the door back, lunging through, weapon leveled.
He heard the sixth explosion. Two guards at the cathedral-like entrance doors sprang from the outside path into view. Bray fired two bursts; the guards of the Matarese fell.
He raced to the door of the room that held Antonia and Taleniekov. It was locked.
"Stand way back! It's me!" He fired five rounds into the wood around the lock casing; it splintered. He kicked the heavy Joor open; it crashed back against the wall. He ran in.
Taleniekov was out of the chair kneeling by the coucla at the far end of the room, Toni beside him. Both were working furiously, tearing pillows out of slipcovers. Tearing... pillows? What were they doing? Antonia looked up and shouted.
"Quicklyl Help usl" "What?" He raced over.
"Pazharl" The Russian had to force the voice; it emerged now as a whispered roar.
Six pillows were free of their cases. Toni got to her feet, throwing five of the pillows around the room.
"Nowl" said Taleniekov, handing her the matches he had taken from Bray earlier. She ran to the farthest pillow, struck a match and held it to the soft fabric. It caught fire instantly. The Russian held out his hand for Scofield. "Help me... get upl" Bray pulled him off the floor; Taleniekov clutched the last pillow to his chest. They heard the seventh explosion in the distance; staccato gunfire followed, piercing the screams from inside the house.
"Come on!" yelled Scofield, putting his arm around the Russian's waist. He looked over at Toni; she had set fire to the fourth pillow. Flames and smoke were filling the room. "Come onf We're getting outl" "No!" whispered Taleniekov. "You! Shel Get me to the doorl" The Russian held the pillow and lurched forward.
The great hall of the house was dense with smoke, flames from the inner conference room surging beneath doors and through archways, as men raced up the staircase to windows, vantage points-high ground-to aira their weapons at invaders.
A guard spotted them; he raised his submachine gun.
Scofield fired first; the man arched backward, blown off his feet.
"Listen to mel" gasped Taleniekov. "Always pazharl With you it is sequence, with me it is firel" He held up the soft pillow. "Light this! I will have the race of my lifel" "Don't be a fool." Bray tried to take the pillow away; the Russian would not permit it.
"Nyed" Taleniekov stared at Scofield; a final plea was in his eyes. "If I could, I would not care to live like this. Neither would you. Do this for me, Beowulf. I would do it for you." Bray returned the Russian's look. "We've worked together," he said simply.
"I'm proud of that." "We were the best there were." Taleniekov smiled and raised his hand to Scofield's cheek. "Now, my friend. Do what I would do for you." Bray nodded and turned to Antonia; there were tears in her eyes. He took the book of matches from her hand, struck one, and held it beneath the pillow.
The flames lept up. The Russian spun in place, clutching the fire to his chest. And with the roar of a wounded animal suddenly set free from the jaws of a lethal trap, Taleniekov lunged, propelling himself into a limping run, careening off the walls and chairs, pressing the flaming pillow and himself into everything he touched-and everything he touched caught fire. Two guards raced down the staircase, seeing the three of them; before they or Scofield could fire, the Russian was on them hurling the flames and himself at them, throwing the fire into their faces.
"Skaryeil" screamed Taleniekov. "Run, Beowulf!" A burst of gunfire came upon the command, smothered by the flaming body of the Serpent; he fell, pulling both the Matarese guards with him down the staircase.
Bray grabbed Antonia by the arm and ran out to the stone path bordered