The Iscariot Agenda (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Vatican City

There is a chamber beneath the Basilica that is the nerve center of the
Servizio Informazione del Vaticano
,
the SIV. It is encased behind walls of bomb-resistant glass, the room itself a marvel of engineering with the entire wall a massive screen TV that can be enabled to be a singular screen, or divided up into multiple screens for multiple purposes. Computer consoles lined multi-tiered levels like a motion picture theater, the rear levels slightly elevated so that the patrons sitting in front can view the mega-screen without obstructing those behind them. The staff manning the consoles or pouring over data were uniformly dressed in black dress pants and tie, a white shirt, and a scarlet dress jacket bearing the emblem of the Vatican on the pocket; the crossed keys of Simon Peter—one silver, one gold—situated beneath the papal crown. 

With diplomatic ties to more than ninety percent of the nations worldwide, the Vatican had a ringside seat.

As Cardinal Vessucci made his way down the winding stone staircase, hiking up the hem of his cassock while descending, his mind was stewing with many thoughts. He was about to lose his friend to cancer, leaving a vacancy upon the papal throne for which he, and two others, were considered the forerunners in a brewing campaign between conservative parties. Pius had already voiced his desire as to his successor. But the cardinal knew that every election was motivated by political machinations rather than the wishes of the incumbent.

When he reached the bottom stair he could see the glass partition of the SIV Center. The video wall opposite the computer consoles gave view to a collage of moving images, mostly of the Middle East, others in the hotspots of the Philippines and Brazil.

As he walked the length of the corridor he came to a thick glass door, the framework of the glass panel bordered by titanium edging. After giving a perceptible wave of his hand to the SIV agent on the other side, the man waved back in acknowledgement and began to type a series of numbers on a keypad. When the sequence was completed, the door opened and a rush of cool air escaped the chamber. The moment he stepped inside, the glass door closed behind him with a whoosh that sounded like escaping steam. It was the sound of the chamber being sealed.

His other moving concern beside the impending death of his long-time friend was the welfare of his long-time brother in spirit, Kimball Hayden.
After learning that the assassin could have killed Kimball, he was greatly disturbed.

He had never questioned the particular set of skills Kimball possessed. But now he had to wonder if the game had finally passed him by.
Was Kimball out of his league
?

This time—maybe
.

Usually the pressures of corporeal life were handled with the power of prayer and faith— the combination putting him at ease in the same manner of self-meditating. But his apprehension could not be mollified to any degree. And he knew it never would be until an assembled team of Knights could be sent to support him. Especially since Kimball’s old team of highly skilled warriors were dropping in the clichéd term of proverbial flies.

Would the Vatican Knights fare any better
?

The cardinal wasn’t entirely confident, since this assassin was unlike any other.

All he could do was pray and hope.  

As the cardinal stood gazing up at the myriad pictures on the big-screen monitor, the assistant director of the SIV approached him.

“Afternoon, Cardinal Vessucci.” The man was small and wispy looking, the collar of his jacket too wide for such a pencil-thin neck. And his face was as slender as the blade of a hatchet. But when he spoke his voice sounded as smooth as flowing honey. It was the voice of someone who could soothe the masses in the face of tragedy.

“My friend Carmello, how are you today?”

The assistant director looked at the video monitor and gestured with a sweep of his bony-thin hand towards the screen. “Busy,” he said. “The world never sleeps.” 

“I see that.”

“But as big as this planet is, nothing is impossible to find with today’s technology.”

“You found the Knights on sabbatical?”
he stated this with a tone full of hope
.

“Not all,” said the assistant director. “But we did find Job.”

“Where?”

The assistant director went to the nearest console with Vessucci at his heels. After typing in a set code, a portion of the screen in the northeast corner of the giant monitor began to take on the landscape images of a satellite feed. Mountains, valleys and snow-capped peaks; rivers, lakes and pools of blue water everywhere—the pristine image of Lake Lucerne, Switzerland.

“We were able to center in on the GPS coordinates of his cell phone, after you provided us with his number. A very simple tool, actually. Based on the number we were able to zero in almost immediately to his point.”

“Have you found Joshua or Ezekiel?”

The assistant director shook his head. “We’re still working on it,” he said. “Neither seems to have a cell phone, laptop, or anything electronic that we could singularly set our sights on. It could be that they have yet to engage their devices.”

“Or that they didn’t bring any along. They are, after all, on sabbatical. Getting away from the real world is what sabbatical is all about—for prayer and meditation.”

“We won’t give up,” he added. “If we found Job, then we can find the others.  All it takes is determination and perseverance.”

Vessucci smiled and clapped a hand on the diminutive man’s shoulder. “That’s true, my friend. But I need you to find them as quickly as you can. The situation is quite dire.”

The cardinal looked back at the screen. It was uncanny, he thought, to look upon the earth with an almost omniscient point of view. And then: “Have you contacted Job yet?”

“Not yet. But we have agents on the way to inform him of his need here at the Vatican.”

“Do you know where he is exactly?”

“Yes, Cardinal. By our coordinates, he’s somewhere close to the Lion of Lucerne.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lake Lucerne
, Switzerland

The Lion of Lucerne is a sculpted monument of a mortally-wounded lion carved into the side of a stone face
commemorating the
Swiss Guards
who were massacred in 1792 during the
French Revolution
when revolutionaries stormed the
Tuileries
Palace
in
Paris
during the
August Insurrection
. When fighting broke out unexpectedly after the Royal Family had been escorted from the Palace to take refuge with the
Legislative Assembly
, the Swiss Guards ran low on ammunition and were soon overwhelmed by greater numbers with hundreds killed and many more massacred after their surrender. An estimated two hundred more died in prison of their wounds, or were killed during the
September Massacres
that followed. So in 1821, with the designing aid of
Bertel Thorvaldsen, and the stone engraving completed by Lukas Ahorn, the sculpture had become a symbolic feature to the courage and testament of the Swiss Guards. 

And Job was proud to have served within their ranks before becoming a Vatican Knight.

Standing six one with 180 pounds of solid but sinewy muscle, Job was the only true Vatican Knight to hale from Switzerland, whereas others had come from other walks of life. At the age of ten his father, a judge in the Federal Court of Switzerland, sentenced a major figure in organized crime to life imprisonment for convictions ranging from racketeering to murder. As a result of his ruling, he was subsequently gunned down along with his wife and three children. Job, however, did not go without punishment as two of the assassin’s bullets scored a double shot with two rounds to his back. But before he bled out, Job, or Johannes, was discovered by a nanny who quickly contacted the authorities. 

And though he lived through the trauma, it was later determined to be in the best interest of the child that he falsely be declared deceased by the media in order to protect him from future vendettas.

Then, as an orphan, he was tendered the opportunity to serve in the Vatican. At the age of eleven and less than five months after the death of his family, young Johannes began his three-year study to become an altar boy. But his studies were short-lived when he caught the eye of Cardinal Bonasero, who saw in him the
proclivity to be someone possessing a very particular set of skills. After falling under the cardinal’s auspices, he was then directed to follow the tutelage of Kimball Hayden and to serve in the glory of the Church as a Vatican Knight. But as
Johannes became a young man and having been born in Switzerland, he found another calling to serve in the Swiss Guard. And he was granted that privilege, only to be incorporated into one of the most skilled fighting fraternities in the world once his calling as a guard concluded.  

And fighting had become a constant way of life—sometimes protecting the Church and its citizenry to the point of bone weariness. So as a measure against battle fatigue, a Vatican Knight was granted a short sabbatical to get away and commune with nature, with life, to explore his inner self through faith and God, and to find inner peace.

Right now, Johannes Eicher was in complete harmony as he sat beneath a cerulean blue sky on a bench facing the Lion of Lucerne, admiring the smooth contours and exceptional detail of the sculpture.

As he sat there a whisper of a breeze brushed against his skin like a sigh, a gentle massage.

And nothing could be better.  

“Brother Job?”

Job started. To be called Job within the circles of the Church was one thing. To be called Job in his township when his true name was Johannes Eicher was another. The covert moniker of a Vatican Knight is always kept sacred and close to the vest.

Two men dressed in dark, matching trench coats approached him, their hands deep in the pockets. Both sported clean haircuts and faces so smoothly shaven they appeared waxy. Around their necks they wore the pristine white bands of the cleric’s collar.

“I’m sorry,” said Job. “Do I know you?”

The taller of the two feigned a smile and pulled his credentials from his pocket, a flipside wallet, and showed Job his ID card.

The
Servizio Informazione del Vaticano
, the SIV.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Brother Job,” the man said, “I know you’re on sabbatical, but the matter we bring you is of dire urgency.”

“I was assured by the pope that my time alone would not be interrupted. I have another five days.” 

“But the message we bring you
is
from Pope Pius himself.”

Job leaned forward with his hands clasped together in an attitude of prayer, and eyed the Lion of Lucerne. “I know,” he said, deeply saddened. “He’s quite ill.”

“His illness is not the urgency we speak of.”

Job cocked his head. “Then why are you here?”

The smaller of the two took a step forward. “You know of us?” he asked. “About the SIV and what we do?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then you know we’re held to a higher standard when it comes to keeping the secrets of the Vatican.”

Job never took his eyes off the sculpture. “With all due respect . . .” He purposely let his words trail in a way to goad the SIV official to offer his name.

“Monsignor Gianicomo,” he returned.

“With all due respect, Monsignor Gianicomo, what is it you’re trying to tell me?” Job turned away from the lion and met the monsignor’s eyes with a steely gaze. “Please.”

“As agents of the
Servizio Informazione del Vaticano
, it is our sworn and noble duty to maintain all that is confidential and holy from the truth of the Shroud of Turin to the reality of the Third Secret. It is also our duty to know about the Vatican Knights and provide assistance when necessary.”

Job was taken aback but refused to show it, his features unmoving. He was led to believe that the Vatican Knights were deeply entrenched as a black op group known only by the Society of Seven—a complement made up of the pope’s six closest allegiances, with Pius serving as the seventh and supreme member.

But surprisingly enough, this wasn’t the case.

The monsignor, however, could still decipher the warrior’s thoughts. “We have always known about the Vatican Knights,” he added. “Loyalty above all else, except Honor. It is also the creed of the SIV.”

Job stood. And the man took a step back.

“You said the pope has asked for my services.”

The man nodded. “He and Cardinal Vessucci have asked us to find you.”

“And how did you find me?”

“We triangulated your position through the GPS in your cell phone,” he said. 

Job winced
. Of course
! It was such a simple method with today’s technology.

And then with a calm but unmitigated authority in his voice, he said, “In the services of my pontiff, I gladly surrender my sabbatical.”

The monsignor offered a smile, showing rolls of ruler-straight teeth. “Thank you, Job.”

“Now tell me what it is that my services are needed for.”

As they headed back to Job’s hostel, Job was flanked by the clergy as they walked across the covered bridges that spanned the waterways, Monsignor Gianicomo gesticulated fervently as he waved his hands with a conductor’s enthusiasm to affect his points.

He spoke of Kimball when he was a member of the Pieces of Eight with the American government, and whose members were now being killed off by someone who was levels above any assassin they had ever seen before. 

—
Kimball can handle himself
—

—
Not this time. The assassin made it clear he could have killed him easily but chose to wait
—

Job listened intently, the features of his face going from stoic to concern; the way his brows above the bridge of his nose dipped sharply downward and the way he began to chew the inner side of his cheek—always a nervous habit.

But still:

—
Kimball is Kimball; a Vatican Elite
—

—
That may be so. But he may also be out of his league and needs your help
—

—
That goes without question. But Kimball Hayden is never out of his league
—

—
Let’s hope so. Because right now he’s all alone
—

They spoke further of Job’s position to back Kimball up to better the odds, and how they were on the search for Ezekiel and Joshua to aid the supreme Knight in his hunt.

—
Kimball had to take this fight elsewhere before the assassin could bring his fight to the Vatican
—

—
Do we have an idea as to who he is
?—

—
Nothing
—

—
With all your resources
?—

—
Whoever this man is, he’s nothing less than a phantom
—

A pause, and then in a tone of deference:

—
So is Kimball
—

The men continued onward toward the hostel, the once beautiful day no longer as severe cloud cover began to move in and threatened to open riotously.