The Brotherhood of the Rose by David Morrell Page B
Authors: David Morrell
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Crime, Espionage, Adventure stories, Assassins, Special Forces (Military Science)
Ads: Link
superior. The rock was fascinating. I can still remember it." Chris narrowed his eyes. "But I'd failed the test. The next time somebody found me paralyzed like that-catatonic-I was out. Peace. My sin was I wanted too much peace."
On the tray, beside the Perrier bottles, a long-stemmed crimson rose stood in a vase. Eliot picked it up. "You had your rock. I have my roses. In our business, we need beauty." He sniffed the rose and handed it to Chris. "Did you ever wonder why I chose roses?"
Chris shrugged. "I assumed you liked flowers."
"Roses, though. Why roses?" Chris shook his head. "They're the emblem of our profession. I enjoy the double meaning. In Greek mythology, the god of love once offered a rose to the god of silence, as a bribe, to keep that god from disclosing the weaknesses of the other gods. In time, the rose became the symbol for silence and secrecy. In the Middle Ages, a rose was customarily suspended from the ceiling of a council chamber. The members of the council pledged themselves not to reveal what they discussed in the room, sub rosa, under the rose."
"You've always liked playing with words," Chris said, returning the rose. "My trouble is, I can't believe in them anymore."
"Let me finish. Part of my delight in roses comes from the different varieties. The various colors and shapes. I have my favorites-Lady X and Angel Face. I used those names as cryptonyms for two of my female operatives. My ladies."
Eliot smiled. "The names of other varieties appeal to me. The American Pillar. The Gloria Mundi. But the goal of every rose enthusiast is to create a new variety. We cut and layer and graft, or we cross-pollinate seed. The ripe seed is kept in sand till spring, when it's sown in pans. The first year produces only color. After that comes the full bloom and the merit. The new variety is a hybrid. Only a large, well-formed, singly grown blossom standing higher than the reipr will do. To enhance the quality of the bloom, the side growth must be removed by a process called disbudding. You and Saul -you're my hybrids. Raised without families, in the orphanage, you had no side growth-you didn't need to be disbudded. Nature had already done that. Your bloom was developed through rigorous training and discipline. To give your characters substance, certain feelings had to be cut from you. Patriotism was layered onto your character. Military experience and, of course, the war were grafted onto you. My hybrids-you stand higher than all the rest. If your conditioning failed and you now feel, it shouldn't be guilt you feel but pride. You're beautiful. I could have given you a new name for a new species. Instead I think of you in terms of the particular rose I'm holding, so dark crimson it's almost black. It's called the Black Prince. That's how I think of you and Saul. As my Black Princes."
"But Saul didn't fail. He..." Chris's eyes changed. "Wait a minute. You're not telling me this just for...
Eliot spread his hands. "So you guessed."
"What's wrong? What's happened to Saul?" Eliot studied him. "Because of your brother, I'm asking you not to try again to kill yourself."
"What is it?" Chris sat forward, tensing. "What about Saul?"
"Five days ago, he did a job for me. After, a member of the team tried to kill him. He got in touch with me. I arranged for him to go to a secure location. When he got there, he discovered the location had been compromised. Another team tried to kill him. He's on the run."
"Then, Jesus, bring him in!"
"I can't. He's afraid to get in touch with me."
"With you?"
"The mole. I've always said there was one. From the agency's beginning. Someone who infiltrated us at the start, who's been compromising us ever since. Someone close to me is using what Saul tells me, using it to try to get at Saul."
"But why?"
"I don't know why he's so important he has to be killed. What he's discovered, or whom he threatens. I won't know till I catch the mole. It isn't easy. I've been looking since 1947.
I
On the tray, beside the Perrier bottles, a long-stemmed crimson rose stood in a vase. Eliot picked it up. "You had your rock. I have my roses. In our business, we need beauty." He sniffed the rose and handed it to Chris. "Did you ever wonder why I chose roses?"
Chris shrugged. "I assumed you liked flowers."
"Roses, though. Why roses?" Chris shook his head. "They're the emblem of our profession. I enjoy the double meaning. In Greek mythology, the god of love once offered a rose to the god of silence, as a bribe, to keep that god from disclosing the weaknesses of the other gods. In time, the rose became the symbol for silence and secrecy. In the Middle Ages, a rose was customarily suspended from the ceiling of a council chamber. The members of the council pledged themselves not to reveal what they discussed in the room, sub rosa, under the rose."
"You've always liked playing with words," Chris said, returning the rose. "My trouble is, I can't believe in them anymore."
"Let me finish. Part of my delight in roses comes from the different varieties. The various colors and shapes. I have my favorites-Lady X and Angel Face. I used those names as cryptonyms for two of my female operatives. My ladies."
Eliot smiled. "The names of other varieties appeal to me. The American Pillar. The Gloria Mundi. But the goal of every rose enthusiast is to create a new variety. We cut and layer and graft, or we cross-pollinate seed. The ripe seed is kept in sand till spring, when it's sown in pans. The first year produces only color. After that comes the full bloom and the merit. The new variety is a hybrid. Only a large, well-formed, singly grown blossom standing higher than the reipr will do. To enhance the quality of the bloom, the side growth must be removed by a process called disbudding. You and Saul -you're my hybrids. Raised without families, in the orphanage, you had no side growth-you didn't need to be disbudded. Nature had already done that. Your bloom was developed through rigorous training and discipline. To give your characters substance, certain feelings had to be cut from you. Patriotism was layered onto your character. Military experience and, of course, the war were grafted onto you. My hybrids-you stand higher than all the rest. If your conditioning failed and you now feel, it shouldn't be guilt you feel but pride. You're beautiful. I could have given you a new name for a new species. Instead I think of you in terms of the particular rose I'm holding, so dark crimson it's almost black. It's called the Black Prince. That's how I think of you and Saul. As my Black Princes."
"But Saul didn't fail. He..." Chris's eyes changed. "Wait a minute. You're not telling me this just for...
Eliot spread his hands. "So you guessed."
"What's wrong? What's happened to Saul?" Eliot studied him. "Because of your brother, I'm asking you not to try again to kill yourself."
"What is it?" Chris sat forward, tensing. "What about Saul?"
"Five days ago, he did a job for me. After, a member of the team tried to kill him. He got in touch with me. I arranged for him to go to a secure location. When he got there, he discovered the location had been compromised. Another team tried to kill him. He's on the run."
"Then, Jesus, bring him in!"
"I can't. He's afraid to get in touch with me."
"With you?"
"The mole. I've always said there was one. From the agency's beginning. Someone who infiltrated us at the start, who's been compromising us ever since. Someone close to me is using what Saul tells me, using it to try to get at Saul."
"But why?"
"I don't know why he's so important he has to be killed. What he's discovered, or whom he threatens. I won't know till I catch the mole. It isn't easy. I've been looking since 1947.
I
Similar Books
