Vatican Knights (24 page)
Authors: Rick Jones
“You think what you are about to do is salvation for the
world?” the pope asked, the blankets falling to his waist. In the green cast of
the NVG lighting, the man looked impossibly emaciated.
“No, not at all,” he said. “But I do believe it will be
salvation for
my
people.”
“With my death you will get what you want—a war that will
cost millions of lives and burden your conscience and soul.”
“What I see, Your Holiness is the means to achieve the
effect. There are always sacrifices in causes, you know that. Think of your own
history and the Crusades.”
“What you’re doing will only foster rage to the point of
hatred so great that it could generate a new world holocaust. It’s not worth
it.”
“In my eyes, Your Holiness, it is. Your eyes have not seen
what mine has. Your eyes didn’t witness your family murdered. Your eyes didn’t
cast themselves upon a loving, gentle father who died a slow death because of
one man’s deep-rooted hatred for Jews one sunny day in Ramallah. You speak, but
you know nothing. You live in a world where your tea may be too hot to sip or
perhaps the air is a little too humid for your comfort. But in my world, having
blood on your hands is the norm. And I’m going to stop it.”
The pope shook his head. “I feel sorry for you,” he said.
“Why? Because my ideologies are not in line with yours?”
The pope closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s because
you’re damning your soul for all eternity.”
“Maybe, but when that day comes, at least I know I did all I
could to make a change. And perhaps my God will understand that.”
“We have the same God,” he said, “The God of Allah, of
Mohammed, of Yahweh—they’re all the same, and I doubt that God will look upon
you favorably.”
“My God is not the God Allah,” Team Leader said, the pitch
of his voice rising. “My God will favor me for my actions against the
transgressions of others.”
“By killing innocent people?”
“If that’s His will.”
“Then if that is the case, you pray to a false God. Because
there is no God who would condone the killing of men.”
“And if that is the case, then Allah is a false God since
men kill openly in His name.”
“Men kill openly because they are ignorant. Not because they
believe their God is astringent.”
“My God is not the same as theirs.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my son. Although God has many
faces, He has but one voice.” The pope released a rattled cough of phlegm from
deep within his lungs.
“Your war will not come out the way you plan it,” he added.
“There will be awful consequences on both sides, and your people will suffer
like no other. Can you live with that? Can you live knowing that your actions
may cause other children to watch their families die? Just like you did one
sunny day in Ramallah?”
Team Leader turned livid. The veins in his neck stuck out
like cords. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to stop. And I’ll succeed.”
“God won’t let you,” muttered the pope. He lay back down,
pulled the blankets over him, and whispered, “God . . . won’t
. . . let you.”
We’ll see. Tomorrow, when you die, we’ll see which of us
is right.
Washington, D.C.
September 27, Evening
Shari mustered the courage to set
herself in motion. She took deep breaths and released them as if in a Lamaze
class. When her mind calmed to the point of clear cognizance, she called Alan
Thornton, the presidential advisor.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“That‘s not important.”
“Shari, what‘s wrong? You don‘t sound right.”
“Alan, please, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What?”
Shari confided with him about the Soldiers of Islam having
been identified from the Clark County Coroner’s Office in Nevada, and about the
CD being a covert schematic of war involving US and allied interests. Thornton
remained quiet, taking in every word as Shari spoke in a quick clip.
Then Shari dropped the bomb shell. “I know about the Force
Elite, Alan. I just didn’t think that after what we’ve been through together
that you would support my eradication.”
“Eradication? What the hell are you talking about?”
“My attackers. The ones I told the president about as he was
looking over the photos in his office just before he went on the air. They were
the Force Elite.”
The line was silent a moment. “Are you telling me that you
were attacked by the Force Elite in
your
home?”
“Then you acknowledge that they exist?”
Thornton paused again. He sighed. “I won’t deny it, Shari.
They’ve existed since the CIA was no longer granted permission to commit
assassinations after the Ford Administration, but I’m sure you already know
that. But to send them to your house to eradicate you, that’s absolutely out of
the question. The top guns in this administration, me included, have to come to
a mutual agreement to dispatch them. And believe me, nobody would be in
agreement to eradicate you. In fact, the team is dormant.”
“What about the president? Could he dispatch them without
your knowledge?”
“Possibly, but I doubt it.”
“How would you know?”
There was another pause. “I guess I wouldn’t.”
“Then it could be possible that he’s working in collusion
with others without your knowledge, knowing that some of you may disagree with
his, shall we say, illegal machinations, perhaps putting his trust only in
those
he knows will support him unconditionally.”
“I would hate to think that of our president.”
“Is it possible, Alan?”
“Anything is possible.”
“I think he had something to do with the kidnapping of the
pope.” She outlined the theory of his disappearance, of how it colluded with
the contents of the CD, the execution murders of the Soldiers of Islam, the
connection between Abraham Obadiah and the sudden attack against her life by
the Force Elite. In an odd way, Thornton thought, it made sense now that she
had pieced it together for him.
“If what you say is true, then you
have
to be
careful.”
“I am.”
“You can’t fight this alone.”
“Then fight with me.”
Thornton mulled this over. “I’ll get on it,” he finally
said. “There are people on Capitol Hill I can trust. Honest people. But I pray
to God you’re wrong, Shari. I really do. President Burroughs is a good man.”
“That you know of, anyway. But I guess we’ll both see. And
Alan?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t screw me because I have friends in high places too.
And to get to me, you’ll have to go through them. And I don’t think you’ll want
to do that.”
“Shari, I’m on your side, believe me. If there are
improprieties going on in this administration, I want to know about them just
as much as you do.”
“We’ll see.” She hung up, staring at the phone and wondering
if she had done the right thing. Either Thornton will send forth the Force
Elite or he’ll examine the truth with a clear conscience. Either way, the ball
was rolling.
Shari snapped her vision between the rearview mirror and the
road as she drove toward her mark. True to his word, Kimball kept a buffer zone
between her Lexus and his van. Other than catching glimpses of his headlights
in the long stretches between them, the roads were clear.
“They know what we know,” she told him over the speaker
phone. “If Alan’s a part of this, he’ll definitely inform the president.”
“If the Force Elite aren’t there yet, then they’re certainly
on their way.”
“Any news from Leviticus?”
“It’s all quiet on the ‘Western Front,’” he said. “But
that’s to be expected. They won’t make themselves known until it’s time to do
so.”
Shari’s heart began to palpitate. Although a post-certified
officer, she had never been a first-team responder, always arriving at the
scene of the crime after the crime had been committed. But this was different.
She was going right into the line of fire by placing herself within the
crosshairs. Even the presence of Kimball Hayden did little to alleviate her
fears. Every mile closer seemed to drive her heart rate faster.
“Shari?”
“Yes.”
“I think it would be best that I come inside with you to
assure your safety. The rest of the team is more than capable of taking on
whatever comes their way on the outside.”
An image of Gary entered her mind and left, only to return
in a series of flashes and snippets of their intimate times together. She saw
the moment when they made love for the first time in the back of his car, the
seat too small but they made it work. She remembered the two of them picnicking
on the bank of a river, feeding ducks, and the lingering kiss that followed.
She recalled other good times, loving times—times that cemented their
relationship that had over the years flourished rather than diminished, until
recently.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she told him. “I think
it’s better served that you command the first line of defense. I’m more than
adequate at taking care of myself. Believe me, I’m ready for them.”
“Shari, you don’t know what you’re up against.”
She thought of Gary and felt confused. “I know exactly what
I’m doing. So please, Kimball, please do it my way. I don’t think it would be a
good idea to be—” She cut herself off, about to say alone with you but finished
with “—in there knowing you weren’t out there watching over me.”
She could hear Kimball’s audible sigh over the phone. “Be
careful,” he told her.
“I will.”
For the rest of the trip she remained silent and tried to
recapture those images of her husband that had cropped up in her mind earlier.
But all she saw now was Kimball Hayden and the way he smiled, the way he
carried himself or cocked his head when thinking about something—and the way he
looked at her with those expressive eyes that told her how much he cared for
her.
Edgy and confused, she snapped off the cell phone and
continued the drive, wondering if she was lying to herself about her feelings
for Kimball. She prayed she was wrong, that she wasn’t slipping further away
from Gary, whose gentle soul was overshadowed by a man who had made killing his
vocation. During the remaining trip she prayed for truth. Perhaps, she thought,
the lie in itself was the truth.
She felt like crying.
En route to the Governor’s Mansion
Kimball and his team drove behind
Shari, maintaining the buffer zone as her vehicle neared the governor’s
mansion. The roads where dark with trees lining both sides of the road, the
constant highway sentinels.
From a distance of three-hundred feet, Leviticus was able to
track Shari’s vehicle from his Comm monitor in the back of the van, her car
lighting up on his screen as a red blip, a signal from the attached GPS system.
As Shari drove up to the governor’s gate she noted Punch
Murdock’s sedan parked to the side and the yellow DO-NOT-CROSS-TAPE he
apparently ignored to gain access. The night, however, remained ominously
silent as she left her vehicle and went to the gate. In the distance a single
lamp was lit in the governor’s mansion. And she saw an image pass by the
window. Even from this distance she could tell that it was Murdock.
She opened her cell phone and dialed Kimball’s number.
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“Nowhere and everywhere.”
More tersely: “Where are you?”
“We have you in our sights,” he said. “You’re fine.”
“There’s no one?”
“No. You’re good.”
She closed the phone, lifted the tape, passed through the
slight opening of the gates, and headed toward the mansion.
#
In the rear
of the van at the
Comm Center Leviticus watched the video monitors, the sensitivity of the
equipment able to pick up any visual or audio event within a defined perimeter
around the mansion. Micah and Isaiah took up respective positions approximately
one hundred meters to the northeast and southwest of the residence, placing the
home within their vision at all times. Their shapes blended in so perfectly
with the shadows that they didn’t even cast an outline of being blacker than
black.
They
were
the landscape.
In the rear of the vehicle Leviticus continuously panned the
micro-thermal imaging camera mounted on the roof, picking up Micah and Isaiah,
and perhaps the occasional stray dog or nocturnal creature. So far the
perimeter was clear. If the Force Elite was out there, they were a mist before
the lenses. Without a doubt the attackers would be as much a part of the
landscape as the shapes and shadows that harbored them.
Maintaining vigilant surveillance, Leviticus panned the
camera to all points of the compass, feeling confident the Knights were alone
as Kimball and Nehemiah became one with the shadows as they headed for the
trees.
#
As Shari ascended
the
stairway of the mansion, she felt a sudden chill crawl along her backside like
a centipede inching its way up her spine, the sudden coldness causing the fine
hairs on the back of her neck to rise.
When she opened the door it did not whine or squeal on its
hinges like a B-horror movie. In fact, it opened with the ease of a well-oiled
machine. When she stood there looking up at the second-tier landing, she saw
Murdock standing there looking down on her. He was a mere shape against the
backlit of the bedroom light.
“I saw you drive up,” he said. “You were quicker than I
thought.”
She took a step towards the stairway. “Did you find anything
else?”
He shook his head. “’Fraid not. It looks like the globe may
be it. I just hope it means something to you.”
She started to take the steps. “Let’s hope so.”
#
Omega Team watched
silently
from the shadows as they watched Shari park her vehicle and enter the mansion.
With one eye on her, they kept a second eye on the van that was parked
approximately 300 feet away from the governor’s gates.
“Candidate One,” whispered Viper. “Do you have a lock?”
“That’s affirmative. Target Red is in the castle,” confirmed
Mamba. “It’s a go. Converge with senses open in the front and rear. She’s not
alone.”
“Copy that,” said Cobra.
Omega Team moved with the furtiveness of serpents, scooting
and crawling along the ground on their bellies in disciplined and patient
fashion. They took to the dark shadows, often stopping and listening for
anything alien or hostile. Once the terrain was judged clear, they moved on,
constantly tightening the perimeter.
What had been a recon line providing a wide view of the
mansion was now closing to a point as the members of Omega Team converged on
the residence. The members drew close to one another as they moved in from
three directions, their weapons drawn, then stopping and sweeping the area, and
then advancing once more in total silence.
Once they were within thirty meters from the entry point,
Omega Team hunkered down with the collective thought of a single mind—keep low
and appraise the situation. Don’t move until the command is given. And look for
shadows, because if the shadow isn’t one of your own, then it’ll probably kill
you.
#
“We have Tangos
,” said
Leviticus.
“Where?” Kimball asked through his lip mike.
“Three Tangos approximately thirty meters apart converging
to the entry point. Each Tango proximity is to the north, northeast and
northwest sector.”
“Micah’s already in position. Isaiah, move in from the
southwest sector and back him up. Nehemiah and I will come in from behind and
flank them.”
“Copy that,” said Isaiah, already on the move to provide a
skirmish line.
“If they’re thirty meters apart, then it’ll be man to man.
Be careful that one Tango isn’t the bait while another lies in wait. Is that
the case, Leviticus?”
“That’s negative, sir. Each man stands alone, obviously
appraising the situation.”
“That means they’re expecting us, or at least somebody. We
won’t disappoint.”
Kimball and Nehemiah picked up the pace, knives drawn,
bodies folded at the waist to maintain a low profile. With the aid of night
vision goggles, they moved quickly through the darkness.
“Status,” whispered Kimball on the trot.
“They’re maintaining position. The defense forces are in
position and waiting for the cavalry.”
“Copy that. Do you see us in relationship to the Tangos?”
“Affirmative. You’re approximately fifty meters southwest of
the targets.”
“Copy.”
Kimball and Nehemiah made an abrupt northeast turn and
headed in the direction of Omega Team to out flank them. When they were within
thirty meters, Kimball broke toward the middle target. Nehemiah stayed the
course and crept toward the commando at the northwest position.
Omega Team waited.
#
“Candidate One and
Two,”
whispered Omega Team’s Mamba into his lip mike. “You have two hostiles moving
in from the southeast. Each of you has been targeted and is drawing a
one-on-one situation.”
“Copy that,” said Viper. “What’s their twenty?”
“Approximately twenty meters behind you and moving closer.”
“Copy that . . . I don’t have a visual yet.”
“They’re moving up on ten meters.”
“Roger that,” confirmed Viper.
“I’m closing the gap.” Mamba left his position and padded
silently to intercept Kimball.
In the north sector, Nehemiah was advancing on Viper. The
Omega Team commando was almost drooling with anticipation as he quietly
attached a noise suppressor to his carbine.
Like drawing a fly to honey, he thought.
#
“We have movement,”
said
Leviticus. “Tango Three is moving toward the center position. Be careful,
Kimball. You might have been made.”
“Copy that.” Kimball hunkered down behind a gnarled hedge
and withdrew a second knife.
#
“One hostile has
stayed,”
Mamba said into his mike. “I’m moving into position. The second hostile is
still on the move.”
“I see him,” whispered Viper. “It’ll be like shooting fish
in a barrel.”
#
Kimball hunkered low
. Something
wasn’t right. And then he gazed toward the dark form of Nehemiah who was almost
on top of his target, his knife drawn.
And then it occurred to him that Leviticus was right.
They’d been made.
#
Viper moved in
a fluid motion
with the barrel of the carbine coming around and targeting Nehemiah. In rapid
succession, muted bursts of gunfire lit up the night like a strobe light as
bullets stitched across the chest and abdomen of Nehemiah’s Kevlar, pocking and
pitting the material as the bullets’ impact drove Nehemiah back, but not to the
ground until Viper found the objective of Nehemiah’s legs. Once Nehemiah went
down he was severely crippled as he lay there bleeding, the knife no longer
within his grasp, his agony sweeping. In a motion that was fleeting and
graceful, Viper withdrew his blade and moved in for the kill.
#
Kimball saw starbursts
of
light from Nehemiah’s position and knew a firefight was on. From his position
he could see Nehemiah being driven back, then to the ground. And in a scene that
seemed somewhat disjointed with the slowness of a bad dream, Kimball could do
nothing as he watched the commando withdraw his knife, pounce upon Nehemiah
without mercy, and drive the blade across his throat.
Kimball was beyond rage.
#
Mamba and Cobra
met up with
Kimball no more than ten meters away, each knowing their target was cognizant
of their presence, and they to his. Once Viper wiped the bloodied blade against
Nehemiah’s Kevlar, he began to converge on Kimball’s point.
But Kimball was more than ready.
#
“Move! Move! Move!”
Leviticus
cried into his lip mike. With Isaiah and Micah moving into position to flank
Omega Team from behind, Leviticus grabbed his HK XM8 that he had already broken
down to the carbine style and exited the van to take position alongside the
body of Nehemiah.
#
Viper was coming
in from the
right, and Cobra and Mamba were directly in front of him. With the point of his
commando knife held between the tips of his thumb and forefinger, Kimball took
aim, and with precision that had been honed by years of practice, let the
weapon fly until it buried itself deep within Mamba’s throat. With an unnatural
gurgle, Mamba drew his hand to his neck and fell to the ground like a rabbit.
Cobra never saw the flight of the knife or heard the punch
of the blade into Mamba’s esophagus, but realized that the man was dead when he
reached down and felt the slick hilt of the knife sticking out from the base of
Mamba’s throat.
By the time he looked up, an immense shadow of a man stood
over him. It was dark and foreboding, something that exuded dread like a slap.
Then in an act too fast for Cobra to register, Kimball rendered the commando
impotent with a single blow that sent him into eternal darkness.
#
Viper crept toward
the
mansion with all the prudence of a skilled assassin, fully aware that a
combatant was to his fore and two others to his right. Immediately his instinct
took over when he saw Mamba and Cobra lying within the brambles, the limbs of
their bodies lying askew as if boneless, and then he dropped to a single knee,
carbine raised, and surveyed the ground ahead of him. The area was eerily
quiet, all shadows locked in place, the hostiles nowhere in sight. With caution
he moved toward the mansion sighting nothing, his carbine sweeping the area as
if on a swivel, all the time considering the hostiles to be as silent as the
night since they had vanished like eddies of mist in a strong wind. But he knew
they were watching, waiting, targeting; perhaps drawing a bead from no more
than arm’s length away.
Suddenly Viper felt the sharp point of a knife stabbing
beneath the Kevlar and into his kidneys, followed by an intense burning
sensation that swept across his lower back as the blade twisted and diced his
entrails. With a feeble bark more out of surprise than in pain, he turned to
view his killer, his carbine dropping to the ground. He looked into the man’s
face but saw only shadows. When his eyes dropped to the starch whiteness of
Kimball’s Roman collar, he thought God had forgiven him for his transgressions.
Then with a gradual slowness like ice gliding along a hot surface, he slid
downward along Kimball’s body and to the ground with his eyes burning their
last embers of life.
Now with the Force Elite eradicated and no one to question,
Kimball was beside himself. He allowed his emotions to carry him to the point
beyond reasoning, where killing was the panacea to quash his anger rather than
to commit to the mission to capture the insurgents and mine them for
information.
In his dismay, as he wiped a hand vaguely over his face, he
understood a single fact. It seemed all but certain the pope was going to die.
#
Shari managed the
final step
and stood before Murdock, who still leaned forward with his hands against the
banister overlooking the foyer below.
“Where’s the globe?”
Without looking at her he pointed his thumb in the direction
of the governor’s room. “It’s on the dresser,” he said. “After I realized what
it was I called you immediately. I haven’t touched it since, afraid that I
might compromise the evidence.”
She headed for the governor’s bedroom. “It’ll be all right.”
He nodded. “I know it will.”
When Shari stood in the room’s center and looked upon the
dresser, she could have sworn that her heart misfired.
