"I don't know," said the third. "Sounds funny to me. What were they doing at the church at that hour?"

"His wife died, maybe they were going to pray."

"What kind of sickies would commit murder on the steps of a church?"

"The world's full of 'em. Believe me."

"I don't know," reiterated the first. "Sounds like something's been hushed up."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Or the last."

At the gravesite the two caskets were being slowly lowered, the priest raising his arms to the sky. Among the assembled mourners were the figures of a couple who stood apart from the rest, surrounded by men in plainclothes, whose eyes furtively roamed the crowd. It was a man, dignified and stately, a woman in a black veil at his side, holding the hand of a four-year-old boy whose arm was cradled in a sling.

"And as we commit Jeremy and Katherine Thorn to their eternal rest," intoned the priest, "we turn our eyes to their child Damien, the sole survivor of this once great family, now moving into the household of another. May he prosper in the love they have to give, may he assume the legacy of his father and become a leader of mankind."

From his position near the graves Damien watched the two caskets descend, holding tight to the hand of the woman at his side.

"And lastly, to you, Damien Thorn," spoke the priest with his arms raised skyward, "may God bestow his blessings and graces ... may Christ bestow his eternal love."

From a cloudless sky came a distant rumble of thunder, and the crowd slowly began to disperse. The couple surrounded by plainclothesmen waited until everyone had left, then approached the graves, the child kneeling before them in prayer. The crowds turned and watched, many weeping openly; the child finally rose and, with his new parents, moved slowly away. The plainclothesmen formed a circle around them, escorting them from the gravesite into the Presidential limousine.

Four motorcycle policemen escorted the limousine out past the line of reporters and they snapped photographs of the child's face as it stared back at them through the rear window of the departing automobile. For all, the photographs would be marred by a blemish, a flaw in the film emulsion creating a haze that hung over the car.

The end.