Munch tried not to look at the victim. The same method as the last one. Nude, a silver cross and ring, and a white card with the black rose on it. Except that this time, the card's opposite side didn't say Magisters beware. It said Only once shall you escape.

He wished Priest would hurry up and find out who was doing this.

Of course, he knew very well that it wasn't the professor's fault – the Order, from what he remembered of college, was very much into finishing what it started – but he still wished it would magically appear to him, the answer, and he would be able to solve these murders and put another killer behind bars. He wished it was that simple.

His cell phone rang. He picked it up.

"Who is this?"

"Olivia. I just came from Abbie's apartment."

"Abbie? Carmichael?"

"Yes. She was attacked – lucky for her Priest was in the house. The assailant's dead, two shots to the main arteries. Blood everywhere."

"Damn. He was a good shot."

"He lies about it," Olivia replied, "but yes. How is it over there?"

"Not looking too good, Olivia . . ."

He drew out the card and looked at the black rose symbol, then turned it over, finding new meaning in the writing on the back, as though the fine lettering now revealed some nuance he had missed the last time. Only once shall you escape . . .

"Olivia, where's Abbie now?"

"The hospital. We've got an FBI agent watching her."

"And Priest?"

"He and Casey are heading your way."

"Good. I think both of them are in danger."

Munch tapped a CSU officer on the back and told him nicely to hurry it up. For the moment, they hadn't lost the shock effect – but soon enough somebody with a camera and a goddamned bloodhound's nose was going to come in and ruin it all. He made sure his cell phone was nearby as he went to the parking lot to wait for Priest and Casey.

They got there about ten minutes after he showed up.

He immediately got the sense that something was wrong between them. He had heard about Casey falling "asleep" in Priest's room, but something told him that she had not deigned to reveal that to him just yet. No, he sensed that there was something coming between them that had nothing to do with her drinking whiskey . . . something having to do with the attack on Abbie. That was it – she thought he'd gotten too close.

"Munch, how is it?"

"Ugly."

"As bad as the last one?"

"About the same. They're on watch to see if they can find white oleander nearby."

"They won't," Priest said quickly. "Well, not the Order's reserve anyway. They always kept that very much a secret. I . . . well . . ."

That was all Munch got out of him.

Even when they returned to the station and reviewed the reports – old hat to them by now – nothing more came out of Priest, though Munch's instincts failed him for once. He wasn't sure if the man was just afraid of saying anything in front of Casey, or if he really was thinking everything through. Both seemed like things he would do.

"Oliver?"

"Hmm, Casey?" He looked up, slightly smiling. "What is it?"

"Who do you think will be the next target?"

"Quite frankly, Casey? If they can't get to Abbie, they'll try for me. But whereas Abbie is right now in the hospital being watched by an FBI agent, I have a licensed Glock in a belt holster. It's fine by me if I have to shoot more of them."

"Don't say that."

"What, about shooting them? I meant it."

"Exactly." She frowned. "Oliver, if the Order is as powerful as you say it is, you are likely to be indicted for manslaughter as it is. Don't make statements that could be understood as premeditated murder. I don't want to see you in jail for murder one."

"Why, Casey, I never imagined you cared so much for my safety."

"You're our consultant," she replied, her voice edgy, "which means it's a stain on the whole department and office if you end up being prosecuted. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Now, where are Olivia, Elliot and Fin?"

Munch knew Olivia was at the medical examiner's, getting Oliver's victim on the examination table. Elliot was probably checking out the ID they had on the first victim. Fin? Fin had disappeared into the streets the only night he'd been here. He said he'd be back soon with information . . . which Munch dearly hoped was true.

"They'll be around, Casey."

"That's not what I asked. I want to know where they are."

"Detective Benson," Priest interrupted, "will most likely be with Dr. Warner on the assailant I shot. I assume you received an identification for your first victim by now? Detective Stabler will probably be tracking that. And from what you've told me, I expect Detective Tutuola – that is his last name, right? – is right now going undercover."

"How the hell did you figure that out?"

"Casey, you're beginning to make me think I never taught you anything. Common sense, remember? All the greatest philosophers had it, in varying degrees, granted."

"Thales of Miletus didn't."

"That's because he was mostly a geometrician."

"Ben Franklin?"

"A scientist."

"Angelo d'Scorza?" she rejoined. "What about Ferdinand Henstridge? Edward Black? Dietrich Röhm? Filippo Sforza? Martin Charles Callahan?"

"They had far more common sense than any of their time."

"They would have survived longer if they hadn't founded the Order."

"But," Priest cut in, "like this nation's forefathers, Casey, they were willing to die for the beliefs they fought to realize. What it is with us Americans and only appreciating the honor of our own people, I'll never know . . . but they were enlightened, for the time in which they lived, and they were instrumental to the history of man."

"Oliver, their Order is going to die here."

"Wrong," he replied; Munch picked up a tinge of anger. "The Order of the Silver Cross, Casey, isn't an American-only institution. Even if every Magister within the four corners dies"–he snapped his hand on the table–"the world has thousands more."

Author's Thanks:

Readers – Another one hundred or two hundred of you, I think, added your counts; that makes me feel very happy about writing this story. It should only climb higher as we go on.

Abbie Carmichael – Well, the chapters from here on out should get more straightforward.

Nanino – Well, yes, one every three days (which means I'll be able to post for a month or so if I don't finish any new ones) . . . anyway, the romance will come, you'll have to wait for its development because I didn't want to make it obvious which characters would get together. It shouldn't be too long, though.