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if it did, there would be no hesitation this time. For now he would merely alert them, but if he had to unleash all four of them, he would. The Seal-breaker considered the two solitary words he had written down during his conversation with War: Thomas Knight.
    He looked at the name of the man who was now blunder
    ing aimlessly around the detritus of his brother's life, and the Seal-breaker, as he dialed the first of the horsemen, felt almost sorry for him.
    CHAPTER 7
    Thomas sat by the tiny hearth in the tiny living room listening to the oily-voiced secretary of the Jesuit house, his patience wearing thin.
    "We're so sorry for your loss. Father Knight was a valued and respected . . ."
    "What happened to him?" said Thomas. He didn't want to hear about his brother's life right now. It would complicate his already conflicted feelings too much.
    "Well, we don't know, exactly," said the voice, picking its words carefully.
    "What the hell does that mean?" said Thomas. He said it quietly, but he could tell the priest on the other end took of
    fense.
    "Just what it says," said the secretary. "We were notified of your brother's death by the American embassy in Manila, but we don't know why he was there or what he was doing."
    "Manila?" said Thomas. Jim turned to look at him, his ex
    pression quizzical. "In the Philippines?"
    "That's right."
    "I thought he was in Japan," said Thomas, feeling his famil
    iar reluctance to even say the word rising like gall in his throat.
    "So did we," said the secretary, and Thomas thought he could hear something in his voice. Awkwardness? Embarrass
    ment? "And indeed he was, for a while. But it seems he left and went to the Philippines, which is where he died."
    "How did he die?"
    "Some kind of traffic accident, we think," said the priest.
    "You think?"
    "Again," said the priest with careful patience, "I don't have all the details. You'd have to go to the foreign office for those, or the Philippine embassy directly."
    "Right," he said. "Thanks."
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    A. J. Hartley
    He hung up before the priest could shower Ed with more postmortem accolades about piety and orthodoxy.
    "Why do I get the feeling I'm not being told the whole story?" he said. He was looking at the phone, but as soon as he had spoken he turned his gaze on Jim. The priest looked down. "How did you know the cop?"
    "Oh, you know," Jim said with a dismissive wave. "Small neighborhood. Similar lines of work, in a way."
    "He didn't seem to like you that much."
    "Sometimes the people they want to lock up are the ones people like me and Ed are trying to . . . what's the word?"
    "Save?"
    "Protect. Nurture," said Jim. "That kind of thing. Kids, mainly."
    Thomas nodded, still feeling evaded.
    "You said he was in Italy before Japan?" he said.
    "A retreat house in Naples," said Jim. "He was back for a few days before heading over to Japan. Look."
    He took a postcard that was propped up on the mantel and blew the dust off. It showed a collage of statues and mosaics from some ancient site, superimposed on a picture of a coni
    cal mountain and deep blue sky: Pompeii, according to the back. Ed's looping handwriting was scrawled on the back in blue ink: " De Profundis! " it said. "Cheers, Ed."
    " De Profundis? " said Thomas, studying the mosaic, the way it made images out of meaningless fragments.
    "Psalm 130 and an old Catholic prayer," said Jim. " 'Out of the depths.' It's a statement of faith in the face of despair.
    'Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord, Lord, hear my voice. O let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleading. If you, O Lord, should mark our guilt, Lord, who would survive? . . . Because with the Lord there is mercy and full
    ness of redemption.' "
    "Seems an odd sort of thing to write on a card," said Thomas.
    "I took it as a joke," said Jim. "The voice of despair com
    ing from this beautiful, fascinating place."
    "Compared to here," said Thomas.
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    O n t h e F i f t h D a y
    "He was in his element," Jim agreed, grinning. The