The Servants of Twilight

"They'll find us."

"No."

"They will," she said grimly.

"Not even the police know where you are."

"But your people know."

"We're on your side."

She nodded, but he could see that she still had something to say, something she really didn't want to say but something she couldn't contain, either.

"What is it? What're you thinking?" he prodded.

"Isn't it possible that one of your people belongs to the Church of the Twilight?"

The question startled him. He hand-picked his people, knew them, liked them, trusted them." Impossible."

"After all, your agency had a Tn-in with Spivey. You rescued those two little children from her cult, snatched them away from their mother. I'd think maybe Grace Spivey would be wary of you, wary enough to plant someone in your organization. She could've converted one of your men."

"No. Impossible. The first time she tried to contact one of them, he'd report it to me immediately."

"Maybe it's one of your new employees, someone who was a Spivey disciple before he ever came to work for you. Have you hired anyone new since you snatched those kids?"

"A few people. But our employees have to undergo a rigorous background investigation before we hire them-"

" Membership in the church could be hidden, kept secret."'

"It'd be difficult."

"I notice you've stopped saying 'impossible."

She'd made him uneasy. He liked to believe that he always thought of everything, prepared for every contingency. But he hadn't thought of this, primarily because he knew his people too well to entertain the notion that any of them was weak-minded enough to sign up with a crackpot cult. Then again, people were strange, especially these days, and the only thing about them that could surprise you was if they never surprised you.

He sipped his coffee and said, "I'll have Henry Rankin run entirely new checks on everyone who's joined us since the Spivey case. If something was missed the first time, Henry'll find it.

He's the best there is."

"And you're sure you can trust Henty?"

"Jesus, Christine, he's like my brother!"

"Remember Cain and Abel."

"Listen, Christine, a little suspicion, a touch of paranoiathat's good.

I encourage it. Makes you more cautious. But you can go too far.

You've got to trust someone. You can't handle this alone."

She nodded, looked down at her half-finished coffee and brandy." You're right. And I guess it's not very charitable of me to worry about how trustworthy your people are when two of them have already died for me."

"They didn't die for you," he said.

"Yes, they did."

"They only-"

"Died for me."

He sighed and said nothing more. She was too sensitive a woman not to feel some guilt about Pete Lockbum and Frank Reuther. She would just have to work it out by herself-the same way he would.

"All right," she said." So while Joey and I are lying low, what'll you be doing?"

"Before we left your house, I called the rectory at the church."

"Her church?"

"Yeah. She wasn't in. But I asked her secretary to arrange a meeting for tomorrow. I made her promise to call Henry Rankin tonight, no matter how late, and let him know when I'm to be there."

"Walking into the lion's den."

"It's not quite that dramatic or dangerous."

"What do you expect to gain by talking to her?"

"I don't know. But it seems the next logical step."

She shifted in her chair, picked up her coffee, put it down without taking a drink, and chewed nervously on her lower lip.

"I'm afraid that.

"What?"

"I'm afraid, if you go to her. somehow she'll make you tell her where we are."

"I'm not that easy," he said.

"But she might use drugs or torture or-"

"Believe me, Christine, I can handle myself and I can handle this old woman and her pack of crazies."

She stared at him for a long time.

Her eyes were mesmerizingly beautiful.

At last she said, "You can. I know it. You can handle them.

I have a lot of faith in you, Charlie Harrison. It's an.

instinct.

I feel good about you. I know you're capable. I don't doubt you.

Really I don't. But I'm still scared."

At I:30, someone from Klemet-Harrison brought Charlie's gray Mercedes to the house in Laguna Beach, so he could drive himself home when he was ready. At 2:05, grainy-eyed and boneweary, he looked at his watch, said, "Well, I guess I'll be going," and went to the sink to rinse out his coffee cup.

When he put his cup in the rack to dry and turned, she was standing at the kitchen window, beside the door, staring out at the dark lawn. She was hugging herself.

He went to her." Christine?"

She turned, faced him.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, being brave." Just a chill."

Her teeth chattered when she spoke.