The Brotherhood of the Rose (44 page)

Castor rushed to the phone. "He figures he's a match for-wasn't even fast enough to finish before I got here." Eliot laughed. "I've beaten him."

Turning, he shouted to Castor on the phone. "Tell that manager to get out here!"

"Where would he get explosives?" Pollux asked. "The same place you would! Look around! Fertilizer! Peat moss! He could go to the druggist and mix a cocktail! All he'd need was batteries and-!" Eliot shoved his hands in the rose bed. "Help me find it!"

Pollux watched, dismayed.

When Don arrived, he opened his mouth. No sound came out. The greenhouse had been built to Eliot's specifications. State-of-the-art equipment. Rare varieties. All of it was ruined. Eliot had started with the bed beneath which wires dangled. Tracing the wires through soil and roses, he'd yanked and dug, tearing, throwing, lunging from one bed to the next till he was covered with dirt, and roses lay around him. "Where?

Damnit, I know it's here! He planted a bomb! I've got to find it!"

Flinging earth, he staggered against a glass wall, almost crashing through it.

Castor and Pollux rushed to help. "Where'd he put it?" Pushing his sons away, Eliot heaved on the wires, lurching back as they pulled free. He stared at two bare-stripped ends. "Oh, Jesus, no. The bastard... ! There wasn't any... !" Sobbing, the old man sank to the floor.

I've had it, Don thought. A stunt like that. He's made as much trouble as he's going to.

It had taken an hour for him to deal with the disturbing aftermath of what had happened at the greenhouse -medical attendants examining Eliot before they escorted him back to the lodge; bomb specialists verifying the absence of explosives. But at last he'd been able to get away. Raging into the gym at the lodge, he faced the attendant. "Grisman's supposed to be here."

"He left a minute ago." Don slammed back through the door. Too furious to wait for the elevator, he pounded up the stairs. Grisman'll want to change his clothes.

Sweating, telling himself he had to get back in shape, he reached the third floor, pivoting in time to see Grisman go in his room. "Hey, stop right there! I want to talk with you But Grisman didn't hear. Already in his room, he shut the door.

Don stormed down the hall. "You bastard." Two rooms away, the blast jerked him off his feet. Concussed, his ears rang as the door blew off Grisman's room. "No!" Stunned, Don crawled to the door. Guests jerked open other doors. He didn't pay attention. "Grisman!"

Smelling sulphur, Don squirmed in.

The room was destroyed, the stereo, television, and computer shattered, the walls charred. Embers smoldered on the bed. The smoke alarm shrieked. "Grisman!"

Coughing, he lurched to the bathroom. There! On the floor! Thank God, he was breathing!

"You can't be serious! You think I-!"

"Either you or them." Don pointed at Castor and Pollux. "He made the bomb himself!" Eliot said. "And set it off? Ridiculous. It almost killed him."

"Almost? You think this is fucking horseshoes! Isn't it obvious? He took cover in the bathroom before he set it off "But why would he-?" blame it on me, for Christ's sake! He pulled that stunt with the wires to make it seem I was angry enough to pay him back!"

"Or maybe you rigged the wires yourself. To blame it on him. To make it seem he was playing with bombs and one Went off."

"You dumb... You thinkif I rigged a bomb it wouldn't have killed him?" I think the bylaws say if a guest keeps causing trouble I can give him a refund. I'm requesting a hearing. What I'd dearly like-I don't know who's at fault, so I'll pick both of you- is for you and your son to settle your problems some where else.

Saul lingered in the lobby, glancing toward the elevator and the stairs. His flashburns hurt, but he felt too excited to care. Pretending interest in a window display of jogging shoes, he studied the reflection of the entrance to the restaurant.

At seven, his patience rewarded, Eliot-flanked by Castor and Pollux-came down the stairs. They went in the restaurant. Waiting a minute, Saul followed.

The guests reacted at once, setting down forks, swallowing thickly, glancing from Saul and Eliot, then back again. Feeling the tension, several demanded checks. Others, coming in, took one quick look and retreated to the lobby. The room became nervously quiet.

Though Eliot faced the entrance, he studied the menu, spoke to Castor and Pollux, and deliberately avoided noticing Saul. I'd like that table over there, Saul told the maitre d. May I suggest the one over here, sir-in the corner? No, the one across from the old man suits me fine.

He didn't give the maitre d a chance to argue. Walking across, he sat so he stared directly at Eliot six feet away.

Eliot tried to ignore him. Other guests got up and left. Surrounded by empty tables, Saul kept staring.

Eliot sipped water. Saul did, too.

Eliot broke off a piece of garlic bread. Saul did the same.

They chewed in unison. Eliot wiped his mouth with a napkin. Saul reciprocated, keeping his eyes on Eliot's. It gave him pleasure to know he was using one of Chris's tricks against their father. Chris had told him about the monastery. Some of us were desperate to stay. A few, though, wanted to leave. They didn't have the courage to say so. What they did was make a nuisance of themselves. The best way? To mock a companion at dinner. Sit across from him and mimic every action. There's no defense. Your opponent gets trapped in your repetition. You follow him, but he follows you. He can't break the pattern. It drives him crazy. Eventually he complains. The irony is the monastery's director can't tell if you're making trouble or the other guy's just imagining things.

Saul mimicked Eliot's every movement. A hand to the chin. A scratch on the eyebrow. An exasperated sigh. It took ten minutes. Eliot suddenly threw down his napkin, stalking toward the lobby, followed by Castor and Pollux. Was it something he ate? Saul asked the empty room.

He came down to the lobby, puzzled, having been informed that he had a visitor. The rest home permitted them, provided credentials were in order and a search revealed no weapons. But he couldn't imagine who would want to see him. Eliot, he suspected, was retaliating.

When he saw who it was, however, he felt his stomach shrink. He stopped, amazed. Erika? How did-?"

Wearing a tan skirt and yellow tanktop, she crossed the lobby, smiling, hugging him. Thank God, you're alive.

Her arms around him, he had trouble breathing. Time stopped. I can't believe you're here, he said. Trembling, confused, he leaned back. Orlik... How... He's dead. She looked disturbed. Before he was killed, he let me escape. He told me where you'd gone. I'll explain it later. She frowned at his face, her voice concerned. What's happened to you? These flashburns? He gingerly touched his cheeks, then glanced around the lobby, echoing her words. "I'll explain it later." He smiled in anticipation of describing what he'd done.

But she shook her head, frowning harder. "Not just the burns."

"Then what?"

"Your eyes. I don't know how to describe... They're... "Go on. Say it."

"Old."

He flinched, feeling as if he'd touched an electric current. Disturbed, he had a sudden need to change the topic. "Let's go." He tried to sound casual. "I'll show you the grounds."

The sun was powerful. His head throbbed as they walked on a white stone path beside a fountain, the mountains encircling them.

But he couldn't forget what she'd said. "I haven't been sleeping well."

She faced him abruptly, worried. "Your cheeks. They're-"

"What about them?"

"Haggard. Look at you. You've lost weight. You're pale. Are you feeling all right?"

"I've---2' "What?"

"Almost beaten him. I've nearly won." His eyes flashed, and yet were black.

She stared at him, appalled. "There's a hearing tomorrow," he said. "To decide if we should be told to leave. As soon as he's off the grounds---" She interrupted emphatically, "It isn't worth what it's doing to you. You've changed. For God's sake, leave. I've got a car. We could----' "Not when it's almost over."

"It'll never be over. Listen to me., I know I told you to get revenge. But I was wrong."

"You couldn't be if it feels this good. "But you'll lose."

"Not if I stay alive."

"No matter what. This isn't professional anymore. It's personal. You're not emotionally equipped for that. You'll suffer the rest of your life."

"For avenging my brother?"

"For killing your father. Your conditioning's too strong."

"That's what he's counting on. But I'm beating him." His voice had the sharp edge of hate.

And Erika suddenly knew she had to get out of here. The place felt like death. It was wrong. She'd never felt such revulsion.

Her only hope was to tempt him to go with her. She'd planned to stay the night, but she sensed she had only the afternoon.

They told each other what had happened since they'd been together last. They returned to the lodge, went up to Saul's room, and slowly undressed each other. She didn't care about the sex. She wanted to lure him, to save his soul.

But even as they embraced, covering each other with nakedness, Saul shuddered in alarm. He knew it wasn't possible, but it seemed Chris lay beside him, dead eyes reproving him.

Guilt wracked his mind. I shouldn't be here. I have to be hunting Eliot.

But loneliness insisted. Joining with Erika, he suddenly realized not two but three of them thrashed on the bed. Not only he and Erika, but Chris as well. "Love you!" he exclaimed. "Oh, God!"

And Erika, knowing something terrible had happened, also knew she'd lost him.

"You won't even stay for dinner?" She glanced at the lodge, revolted. "I have to go."

"I hoped you could----2' "Help you? No, it's wrong. This place is--Come with me." He shook his head. "I haven't finished."

"It doesn't matter if you kill him. Don't you see?

He's already won. He's destroyed you." Tears rolled down her cheeks. She kissed him. "I lost you ten years ago. Now I've lost you again."

She shook her head sadly. "I'll miss you."

"In a week, I'll have what I want. I can join you."

"No." "You're telling me not to come?"

"I want you to. But you won't."

"I don't understand."

"I know." She kissed him again. "That's the trouble." Getting in her car, she rubbed her tearswollen eyes. "In case I'm wrong, the embassy can tell you where to find me."

"There's a p ace ow in reece, e sast. e sea s so blue-"

Her throat made an anguished noise. "I bet. And the waves roll in, and the swimming's-Don't I wish. Guess what?" She raised her chin; it trembled. "I've been thinking about resigning. See you, love. Take care." She started the car and drove down the lane.

Unsettled, he watched till her car disappeared in the trees, heading toward the valley road. Something felt empty in him. His brain reeled, disoriented, as if an outside influence had intruded on a perfect closed system. What's happening to me'?

Confused, he turned to walk up the steps to the lodge, suddenly understanding what she'd tried to tell him. I stayed. Till the old man's punished, I'll neverjoin her. , - But by then it'll be too late. She offered herself, and instead I chose my father.

How can she accept me after that? Remembering his uneasy feeling about the rest home, he suddenly wondered if he'd damned himself. He also leapt from the steps to run to a car and... What? Chase after her? Tell her I'm going with her? Thoughts of Eliot intruded. Paralyzed on the steps, he peered again toward the road between the trees. Pressure built in him. Anguish tore his soul. His will tilted one way, then the other. What to do? Whom to choose? Chris seemed to stand before him, his sad eyes narrowed in accusation.

Paralysis changed to resolve.

Don paced, gesturing angrily toward the swimming pool beyond the wall-sized window in his office. Though the day was hot and bright, the pool was empty. "All the stunts you've been pulling, you've made the guests so nervous they don't want to leave their rooms. The restaurant's deserted. The grounds-hell, I could send out naked dancing girls, and nobody'd be there to notice. Rumors of your... disagreement, shall we say? have got around. The smart money outside says stay away from here, pick the rest home in Hong Kong or Switzerland. Talk about trouble. The bunch of you are it."

The trouble he referred to was composed of Eliot, Castor, Pollux, and Saul. They sat-Eliot and his escorts separated ,from Saul, watched by guards-as Don continued. "So here's the situation. The rules of the sanction force a rest home to accept an operative in need, provided he pays the necessary fees. But the rules don't force a director to put up with disruptive guests. I've contacted my superior and explained the problems here. I've been in touch with the supervising board. I've requested a hearing and received a judgment. The Abelard rules say if a director has sufficient cause-and Christ, do I have sufficient cause!-he can instruct a guest to pack his bags." Don pointed at the door "And leave."

Eliot straightened angrily. "And have this man try to kill me the instant I leave the grounds?"

"Did I say I'd let him try to kill you?