They were in what was once a garden, now fallen to decay and littered with broken statuary. The monk speaking had pushed Spilletto's wheelchair from the rotunda at the end of the services, and the two men had followed him, approaching only when they were out of earshot of the rest.

"He is fed and cared for by the brothers," the monk continued, "and we pray for his recovery when his penance is complete."

"Penance?" asked Thorn.

The monk nodded.

" 'Woe to the Shepherd who abandons his sheep.

May his right arm wither and his right eye lose its sight.' "

"He's fallen from grace?" asked Thorn.

"Yes."

"May I ask why?"

"For abandoning Christ."

Thorn and Jennings exchanged a quizzical glance.

"How do you know he's abandoned Christ?" Thorn asked of the monk.

"Confession."

"But he doesn't speak."

"Written confession. He has some movement of his left hand."

"What kind of confession?" pressed Thorn.

The monk paused, "May I ask the nature of your questions?"

"It's vitally important," replied Thorn earnestly. "I beg you to help us. There's a life at stake."

The monk studied Thorn's face and then nodded.

"Come with me."

Spilletto's cubicle was bare and boxlike, containing only a straw matress and a table made of stone. Like the rotunda, it had an open skylight that let light and rain in; a pool of water remained from the rains of the night before. Thorn noticed that the mattress was wet, and wondered if they all suffered such discomfort, or if this was part of Spilletto's private penance.

"It's drawn on the table," the monk said as they entered. "He wrote it out in coal."

Spilletto's wheelchair clattered as it crossed the uneven stones. They gathered around the small table, seeing the strange symbol the priest had drawn there.

"He did it when he first came here," the priest said. "We left the coal here on the table, but he has drawn no more."

It was a grotesque stick figure, etched unevenly :n a childlike scrawl. It was bent and misshapen, its head surrounded with a semicircular line. What immediately caught Jennings' eye were the three numerals surrounding the semicircle above the stick figure's head. They were sixes. Three of them. Like the mark on Tassone's thigh.

"You'll notice the curved line above the head," the monk said. "This indicates the hood of the monk. His own hood."

"It's a self-portrait?" asked Jennings.

"We believe so."

"What about the sixes?"

"Six is the sign of the Devil," the monk responded. "Seven is the perfect number, the number of Jesus. Six is the sign of Satan."

"Why three of them?" asked Jennings.

"We believe it signifies the Diabolical Trinity. The Devil, Anti-Christ, and False Prophet."

"Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," observed Thorn.

The monk nodded. "For everything holy, there is something unholy. This is the essence of temptation."

"Why do you consider this a confession?" asked Jennings.