The game then jumped between vivid scenes of player-controlled guards and dogs hunting men in the forest, and bodies piling up in the crematoria. Stoll ordered the game to play itself, since he said he couldn't bring himself to put the bodies on the pallets for incineration.

"The letter," Hausen said as they watched the program. "What did Reiner's letter say?"

Stoll hit Ctrl/Alt/Delete and killed the game. Then he went back into the computer to retrieve Reiner's letter.

"The guy didn't talk much, did he?" Stoll asked as he jabbed the keys.

"No," said Hausen. "Why do you ask?"

Stoll said, "Because I have no idea what he wrote, but there sure wasn't much of it."

The letter came up and Lang leaned closer. He translated for the Americans.

" 'Herr Savior,' " he said, " 'I hope you enjoy this game, while it is still a game.' And it is signed, 'Reiner.' "

Hood was watching Hausen closely. His back straightened and his mouth turned down. He looked like he wanted to cry.

"Four years," Hausen said. "We were together four years. We fought for human rights in the newspapers, behind megaphones, on television."

"Looks like he was there just to spy on you," Hood said.

Hausen turned from the computer. "I can't believe it," he said sullenly. "I ate with his parents, at their home. He asked what I thought of his fiancée. It can't be."

"Those are exactly the kinds of things moles use to build trust," Hood said.

Hausen looked at him. "But four years!" he said. "Why wait until now?"

"Chaos Days," Lang offered. His hand fell limply to his side. "It was his perverted statement."

"I'd be surprised if that was the case," Hood said.

Lang looked at him. "What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?"

"No," said Hood. "This is a professional-quality game. My guess is that Reiner didn't produce it. He planted it for someone, someone who didn't need him here any longer."

The other three men were shocked as Hausen put his hands on his face and wailed.

"Christ, God," he moaned. His hands came down, became fists, shook tightly at his waist. "Reiner was part of the empire of constituents he was talking about."

Hood faced him. "That who was talking about?"

"Dominique," Hausen said. "Gerard Dominique."

"Who is Dominique?" Lang asked. "I don't know that name."

"You don't want to," Hausen said. He shook his head. "Dominique phoned to announce his return. Yet now I wonder if he was ever really gone. I wonder if he wasn't always there in the dark, his soul moldering as he waited."

"Richard, please tell me," Lang implored. "Who is this man?"

"He isn't a man," Hansen said, "he's Belial. The Devil." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry-- I can't talk about this now."