The Brotherhood of the Rose by David Morrell Page A

sanction, after all. The other networks are hunting me. you'd have earned some points with them, especially the Russians, if you brought me in."
    "I wasn't sure you'd let us take you alive."
    Chris stared at him. Eliot's assistant, wearing a Yale ring and tie, brought a tray of Perrier, ice, and glasses, setting it on the table between them in this lounge section of the plane.
    Eliot didn't speak till the assistant left. "Besides--2' he seemed to choose his words, pouring Perrier in two glasses, "I was curious. I wondered why you wanted a dentist."
    "Personal."
    "Not anymore." Eliot handed him a glass. "While you were unconscious in the dentist's chair, I asked you some questions." He paused. "I know you intended to kill yourself."
    "Past tense?"
    "For my sake, I hope so. Why did you want to do it? You know your death would hurt me. Your suicide would hurt even worse. I "That's why I wanted my teeth removed. If my body was ever found, it couldn't be identified."
    "But why ask the priest? Why go to the safe house?"
    "I wanted a dentist who was used to working with operatives, who wouldn't ask questions."
    Eliot shook his head. "What's wrong?" "That isn't true. With a little trouble you found a dentist on your own. You didn't need someone familiar with our profession. All you needed was sufficient money to bribe a man into silence. No, you had a different reason for asking the priest."
    "Since you know all the answers..."
    "You went to the priest because you knew he'd make inquiries before he gave you the information. I'd learn where you were. I'd be puzzled about your request and intercept you."
    "What good would that have done? I didn't want to be stopped."
    "No?" Eliot squinted at him. "Your request to the priest was the same as a cry for help. A suicide note before the fact. You wanted to tell me how much pain you were in."
    Chris shook his head.
    "Unconsciously? What is it?" Frowning, Eliot leaned forward. "What's wrong? I don't understand."
    "I'm not sure I can explain it. Let's just say..." Chris debated in anguish. "I'm sick. Of everything."
    "The monastery changed you."
    "No. The sickness came before the monastery."
    "Drink the Perrier. Your mouth will be dry from the Amytal." Automatically Chris obeyed. Eliot nodded. "What kind of sickness?"
    "I'm ashamed." :"Because of what you do?"
    "Because of what I feel. The guilt. I see faces, I hear voices. Dead men. I can't shut them out. You taught me discipline, but the lesson isn't working anymore. I can't stand the shame of-"
    "Listen to me," Eliot said.
    Chris rubbed his forehead. "You're a member of a high-risk profession. I don't mean just the physical danger. As you've discovered, there's also a spiritual danger. The things we have to do can sometimes force us to be inhuman."
    "Then why do we have to do them?"
    "You're not naive. You know the answer as well as I. Because we're fighting to protect the way of life we believe in. We sacrifice ourselves so others can have normal lives. Don't blame yourself for what you've needed to do. Blame the other side. What about the monastery? If your need was spiritual, why couldn't the Cistercians help you? Why did they force you out? The vow of silence? After six years, was it too much for you?"
    "It was wonderful. Six years of peace." Chris frowned. "Too much peace."
    "Because of the strictness of the Order, a psychiatrist came to test us every six months. He checked for signs-tiny clues of unproductive behavior. The Cistercians believe in work, after We supported ourselves by farming. Anyone who couldn't do his share couldn't be allowed to live off the sweat of others." Eliot nodded, waiting.
    "Catatonic schizophrenia." Chris breathed deeply. "That's what the psychiatrist tested us for. Preoccupations. Trances. He asked us questions. He watched for our reactions to various sounds and colors. He studied our daily behavior. One day when he found me sitting motionless in a garden, staring at a rock-for an hour-he reported to my