gear, men trained for a specialized warfare, the battlegrounds defined by momentary bursts of armed fanaticism. Their commander approached the car.
"Take it easy," he said to Bray. "You're out. Who are you?" "Vickery. B. A. Vickery. I had business with Nicholas Guiderone. As you say... we got out! 1ATben that hell. broke.loose, I grabbed my wife and we hid in a closet. They smashed into the house, in teams, I think.
Our car was outside. It was the only chance we had." "Now calmly, Mr. Vickery, but quickly. What's happening up there?" The tenth charge detonated from the other side of the hill, but its light was lost in the flames that were spreading across the crest of the hill.
Appleton Hall was being consumed by fire, the explosions more frequent now as more arsenals were opened, more ignited. The Shepherd Boy was fulfilling his destiny. He had found his Villa Matarese, and as his padrone seventy years ago, his remains would perish in its skeleton.
"What's happening, Mr. Vickery?" "They're killers. They've killed everyone inside; they'll kill every one of you they can. You won't take them alive." "Then we'll take them dead," said the commander, his voice filled with emotion. "They've come over here now, they've really come over. Italy, Germany, Mexico...
Lebanon, Israel, Buenos Aires. Whatever made us think we were immune?.
.. Pull your car out of here, Mr. Vickery. Head down the road about a quarter of a mile. There are ambulances down there. We'll get your state- ment later." "Yes, sir," said Scofield, starting the engine.
They passed the ambulances at the base of Appleton Drive and turned left into the road for Boston. Soon they would cross the Longfellow Bridge into Cambridge. There was a locker on the MPTA subway platform in Harvard Square; in that locker was his attach6 case.
They were free. The Serpent had died at Appleton Hall, but they were free, their freedom his gift.
Beowulf Agate had disappeared at last.
EPILOGUE
Men and women were taken into custody swiftly, quietly, no charges processed through the courts, for their crimes were beyond the sanity of the courts, beyond the tolerance of the nation. Of all nations. Each dealt with the Matarese in its own way. Where it could find them.
Heads of state across the world conferred by telephone, the normal interpreters replaced by ranking government personnel fluent in the necessary languages. The leaders professed astonishment and shock, tacitly acknowledging both the inadequacy and the infiltration of their intelligence communities. They tested one another with subtle shades of accusation, knowing the attempts were futile; they were not idiots. They probed for vulnerabilities; they all had them. Finally-tacitly-a single conclusion was agreed upon. It was the only one that made sense in these insane times.
Silence.
Each to be responsible for his own deception, none to implicate the others beyond the normal levels of suspicion and hostility. For to admit the massive global conspiracy
was to admit the existence of the fundamental proposition: governments were obsolete.
They were not idiots. They were afraid.
In Washington, rapid decisions were made secretly by a handful of men.
Senator Joshua Appleton IV, died as he had come into being. Burned to death in an automobile accident on a dark highway at night. There was a state funeral, the casket mounted in splendor in the Rotunda where another vigil took place. The words intoned befitted a man everyone knew would have occupied the White House but for the tragedy that had cut him down.
A government-owned Lockheed Tristar was sacrificed in the Colorado mountains north of Poudre Canyon, a dual engine malfunction causing the aircraft to lose altitude while crossing that dangerous range. The pilot and crew were mourned, full pensions granted their families regardless of their service longevities. But the true mourning was accompanied by a tragic lesson never to be forgotten. For it was revealed that on board the plane were three of the nation's most distinguished men, killed in the ser- vice of their country while on an inspection tour of military installations. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had requested his counterparts at the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Council to accompany him on the tour. Along with a message of presidential sorrow, an executive order was issued from the Oval Office. Never again were such ranking government personnel permitted to fly together in a single aircraft; the nation could not sustain such a grievous loss twice.
As the weeks went by, upper echelon employees of the State Department as well as numerous reporters who