by Donna Raider
He said a short prayer to his God, thanking Him for His guidance in the Santa Fe affair and asking for His continued help with the assignment he was about to undertake.
##
The plane’s hop on the runway as it touched ground woke Watcher from his dreamless sleep. He let the other passengers push and shove their way off the plane. He was in no rush. It had been his experience that being last through customs was always easiest. The agents were tired and bored after checking so many passports. He spotted a pretty, dark-haired woman with no one at her stand. He smiled as he approached her and handed her his passport. She looked at him and the picture on the passport, then stamped the necessary stamps required. He knew getting back through the US customs agents wouldn’t be so simple.
He was pleasantly surprised at how updated the airport was. The last time he had flown into Lima, it had taken him hours to get his luggage. Passengers were then directed to an outside waiting area surrounded by a ten-foot cyclone fence. Armed guards had patrolled the gates leading to and from the waiting area. Travelers had to have someone outside the fence claim them before the guards would open the gates and let them out. Alberto Fujimori had been president.
Today, he had simply claimed his luggage and met his driver at the limo station. The trip to the hotel was without incident. He had donned his Indiana Jones hat and sunglasses as soon as he passed through customs. On the way to the hotel, he visited with the driver, telling him he would be leaving on the morning of the twentieth and asked if he would be so kind as to pick him up at the hotel at eight and take him to the airport. A hundred-dollar tip—American money—assured the driver would return to take care of him.
Almost as an afterthought, he asked the driver if he knew where he might find some action.
“I don’t really have to report to the news bureau until tomorrow.” He smiled, letting his press credentials fall open as he pulled the hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “Someplace very nice. I don’t want to get rolled.”
“I take you!” the driver exclaimed in broken English. “My uncle, he provides only the best for those who can afford to pay. You want woman and maybe drinks.” He watched his fare’s face for interest. Seeing none, he added, “Peru has very best coca plants in the world.”
“Now you’re talking.” Watcher grinned wickedly. “Why don’t you pick me up in an hour? I need to get a pair of boots. I bet you can recommend the best to me.”
The driver grinned and nodded. Peru was well known for its leather artisans. Watcher had a pair of handcrafted boots made with a three-inch lift that was impossible to detect. The promise to pay twice the price guaranteed the boots would be ready in two days.
##
Watcher looked out the limo window. The driver was giving him the guided tour. They passed famous landmarks, revered churches, and historic buildings. They were headed to San Isidro, a wealthy suburb of Lima.
“I take you to nice restaurant.” The driver smiled. “They will serve you whatever you want. I take care of it for you. Very expensive.”
Watcher nodded. The driver dropped him in front of the restaurant. “I be right back,” he promised.
Watcher waited while the driver parked his limo, not trusting it to the valets.
“This is my friend.” He nodded to the maître d’. “My cousin,” he said, flashing a grin at Watcher. “I’ll seat him, okay?” He nodded to his cousin. “Ask the waitress for the traveler’s special,” his driver directed.
Watcher followed the man to a booth in the back corner of the restaurant. A young woman appeared with water and warm bread. “What can I get for you?” she asked, smiling.
“The traveler’s special,” Watcher answered as instructed.
A waitress placed a menu in his hands. When Watcher opened the menu, he saw a flattened baggie filled with cocaine. He slipped the bag into his jacket pocket.
He ordered the dish the waitress suggested and a glass of wine. When his check came, he wasn’t at all surprised at the ridiculous cost of the meal. He knew it included the cocaine.
As he dined, four men in dark business suits entered the restaurant and made their way to a booth close to him. He immediately recognized Cardinal Weaslen and his two traveling companions. Watcher didn’t recognize the fourth man. He was surprised that they didn’t have their usual bodyguards with them. Of course, San Isidro was one of the safest areas in Lima. Obviously, they were conducting business they didn’t care to share with others.
“I believe you will find everything to your satisfaction,” the stranger told the three priests as they opened their menus. All three men smiled and slipped the plastic bags into their pockets.
The men dined, drinking and occasionally fingering the bags in their pockets.
“That is not our agreement.” Cardinal Weaslen’s voice rose above the din in the restaurant. The others encouraged him to lower his voice.
Watcher observed as the four men grew angrier during their heated discussion. “Take us back to the hotel.” Weaslen stood and stomped from the restaurant. He didn’t even look to see if the others were following. He knew they would.
Pitching more than enough money on the table to cover his meal and purchase, Watcher followed the men. His mind was racing, thinking how he might take advantage of the obvious riff between the priests and their drug connection. He followed them, ascertaining in which hotel they were staying. He watched the elevator stop on floor three then sprinted up the stairs in time to see them enter a large suite that encompassed most of the floor. He checked the location of the security cameras. They looked like the cheap, stationary kind that only recorded onto a computer. He would have to take the chance that they weren’t being monitored by security personnel.
Putting his ear to the door, he listened as Cardinal Weaslen raged about the dishonesty of the Peruvians. “I hate dealing with these barbarians,” he ranted. “We must find a way to replace them with men we can trust. Men of the church. Perhaps that young priest, Brother Herrera. He seems most willing to do anything to ingratiate himself to us.”
It gagged Watcher to think that the members of the Curia would drag their brethren into sin. It was their job to further a strong belief and closeness to God. As a plan formed in his mind, he quickly returned to his hotel room and commenced to mix the cocaine he had purchased with the powdery monkshood he had smuggled into the country. He then placed all the contents into the single plastic bag that had contained the cocaine.
He placed the tranquilizer gun and extra darts in his jacket pocket. He put on a cap and slipped his Glock 18 into his shoulder holster. He had packed the gun in his checked luggage, broken down into about thirty-five pieces. He headed back to the hotel of the Vatican three. He entered through the employees’ entrance and quickly ascended the stairs to the third floor. Pulling his cap low over his eyes, he silently stepped into the view of the security cameras. Firing quickly, he embedded a tranquilizer dart into the neck of each of the bodyguards. He moved quickly to the door of the priests’ room. He pitched the leather vest, with the cocaine-monkshood mixture in the pocket, onto the floor.
Screaming and emulating a violent struggle, which included throwing his body against the door, he snapped his fist into the chest of the guards and grunted loudly, as if hit. He pulled out his gun and threw a bullet into the chamber, knowing the sound would get someone’s attention. “Come back here, you cowards.” He stomped his feet as if running away.
The door to the priests’ room opened slightly, the security chain still in place. “Are you okay?” Watcher asked the man.
“What is going on?” the priest asked tentatively.
“Two goons were trying to break into your room,” Watcher explained. “Fortunately, I was making my rounds and saw them.”
Cardinal Weaslen looked him up and down and decided it was safe to open the door. He didn’t question Watcher, assuming he was part of the hotel’s security team.
Watcher holstered his gun and picked up the vest. “I caught one
of them, but he managed to slip out of his vest and get away. Does this look familiar?”
The cardinal’s eyes were wide as he shook his head. The other two priests joined him. “Please come in,” Weaslen said, eyeing the plastic bag sticking out of the vest’s pocket.
“I will just turn this over to the police,” Watcher said, holding up the vest. “Maybe they can get something from it to give us some idea who might want to harm you fellows.”
“No, please.” Weaslen snatched the vest from his hand. “We’re visitors in this country.” His German accent became more pronounced. “We do not want to cause trouble.”
“I think they killed your guards.” Watcher stepped back toward the door. He knew the men weren’t dead but would be out for several hours.
Checking the guards’ pulse, Watcher declared, “They just seem to be knocked out. Looks like they were tranqed.”
“Please, help us pull them into our room.” Cardinal Weaslen grimaced as Watcher began pulling the heaviest man inside and then the other.
“I still think I should notify the police,” Watcher insisted. “You fellows could be in grave danger.”
“No, no,” the cardinal insisted. “Please, will you stay with us? We will be safe with you.”
Watcher nodded. “Why don’t I order some coffee?” He called room service.
He surveyed the room as the priests dragged the two bodyguards into a bedroom. The plastic bags from last night lay empty on the floor next to the coffee table. Good, they are out of their party drug of choice, he thought.
When the three men returned, they were dressed in white cassocks trimmed in scarlet. Watcher’s eyes widened. “You are the three visitors from the Vatican,” he gasped. He bowed low. “Forgive me if I was in any way rude. I did not know. I was only told to keep you safe.”
“And you have, my son.” Cardinal Weaslen smiled indulgently. “Thank you.”
A knock at the door announced the arrival of room service. Watcher opened the door carefully, slipped the employee a twenty, and pulled the cart inside. He lifted the cloth hanging around the cart as if to make certain no one hid there.
The clergy nodded approvingly. “I really must get back to my rounds.” Watcher smiled. “Your Excellences, if I can be of any further service to you, please do not hesitate to call on me.”
“We seem to be without security,” Cardinal Weaslen noted. “Perhaps you could assume the duty of our bodyguard. I will clear it with the hotel.”
“I would be honored to serve you.” Watcher bowed low. “Please tell them you will be providing your own security If they find out it is me they will fire me and I will be unemployed after you leave.”
For the next two days, Watcher shadowed the priests. He observed their monetary transactions with the drug cartel and their siphoning of funds from the Archdiocese in Lima. He visited with the nuns and priests at the church and heard the same story repeatedly. Their church was poor and lacked the funds needed to implement many of the programs needed to help the destitute in their country. It seemed there was never enough money. Weaslen and his two buddies were forcing the priests and nuns to smuggle cocaine into the US.
The Archbishop of Lima eyed Watcher suspiciously. His staff had informed him that the bodyguard for Cardinal Weaslen was asking questions. He approached Watcher while Weaslen was talking to a group of priests.
“We can’t smuggle any more product than we already are,” the archbishop said suddenly. “Please report this to the Pope. If my people are caught, it will be very bad for the diocese. This is a sin!”
“Give me a list of names of those involved.” Watcher continued to keep his eyes on Weaslen. “The Holy Father does not condone this activity.”
The archbishop walked away, shaking his head.
The elaborate dinner planned for the Vatican visitors was set for that night. Since the three Vatican representatives were still alive, Watcher knew they hadn’t used the laced cocaine he had let fall into their hands. He called the hotel and ordered three bottles of excellent Bordeaux that he knew paired well with cocaine. “Please start chilling them in our suite now,” he instructed the girl.
Watcher observed the diners at the affair that would rival one for a head of state. No expense had been spared. Several beautiful señoritas asked him to dance, but he declined, telling them he had to keep an eye on the Vatican three.
The Archbishop of Lima approached him slowly. He handed him an old hymnal. “As you requested, my son.” Watcher opened the hymnal and removed the long list, slipping it into his pocket. He would relay the list to the Vatican. He knew someone like him would be dispatched to take care of the civilians involved in this desecration of the church.
He frowned when he noticed Bishop Travail following a beautiful young woman he was certain was a prostituta, a puta. They left the hall. An hour later, the bishop reappeared. Watcher walked to him and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Wipe her lipstick from your neck, Your Excellency.”
The bishop glanced at him sharply then smiled as if he thought Watcher approved of his behavior. Infidels, Watcher thought. He hoped he would get to watch them die.
Bishop Steinhoff was talking with a handsome young man. At first Watcher thought him a church representative, but the way he pushed himself against the priest told Watcher he was a prostituto. The vile appetites of the three priests sickened him.
The three clergies were drunk when the dinner ended. Watcher loaded them into a limo the church had furnished and drove back to the hotel. He helped them to their suite.
“Look.” Weaslen’s German accent was deep and guttural as he said, “Some kind soul has chilled a fine Bordeaux for us.”
“Why don’t you three get comfortable while I allow the wine to breathe?” Watcher suggested, picking up the chilled bottle and peeling the foil seal from around the cork.
As the three priests returned to the living room, he placed a wine glass in each of their hands and then poured the wine.
“Ah, this is almost as exquisite as the young lady I met tonight.” Bishop Travail grinned wickedly.
“And you, Ronald,” Weaslen addressed Bishop Steinhoff, “did you partake of your passion tonight?”
Steinhoff nodded.
“What about you, my young soldier of fortune?” Weaslen smiled. “Did you get to indulge in any of your passions tonight?”
Watcher fidgeted. “I am afraid my passion is more of an addiction, Your Excellency.” He hung his head.
“Then we share the same passion.” Weaslen laughed.
Watcher watched as the cardinal went to the decorative chest in the living room and opened the drawer. He withdrew the bag that had been in the vest Watcher had given him.
“Perhaps you will join me?” Weaslen held up the bag.
“Not while I’m on duty, Your Excellency,” Watcher said. “Obviously someone is out to harm you. I would feel better if I keep my wits about me, even if they are a little shaky.”
Weaslen nodded his understanding. “I appreciate your dedication. Come, my brothers. Let us finish off the evening in style.”
The priests laughed and gathered around the table in the dining room. Watcher observed as they shook out the powdery substance in front of them, on the table. He watched as the three set up three lines of the substance.
“Wait.” Weaslen grinned wickedly. “We should honor our benefactors in Lima.” He went to the bedroom and returned with a briefcase bearing the papal seal. He unlocked it and popped the latches. He opened the lid on a case full of US hundred-dollar bills. “We will inhale their product through their dollar bills.” Everyone laughed.
“Everyone should start the party together,” Watcher suggested, laughing. “Roll your bills. Get ready, get set, go!”
The three clergy sniffed the cocaine, quickly moving from one line to another until they had sniffed all the drugs up their noses.
It always amazed Watcher how people were willing to snort something up their nose and into their brain without
the slightest idea what was going into their body. He had no pity for such stupid individuals. They deserved to die.
He watched the shocked looks on their evil faces as blood began to drip from their noses. Their eyesight began to blur. He stood before them. “Did you really think you could get away with murdering the Holy Father?” he screamed to make certain they would hear over the roaring in their ears as blood began to pour out of them too.
All too quickly, they slumped forward, dead. He had a feeling that meeting their maker was going to be a real low for them.
He moved around the apartment, cleaning up the powder residue. He washed everything that was washable down the kitchen sink. He placed a new bag of pure cocaine on the table and made it look as if they had just inhaled the contents of it. He burned the baggie that had held the monkshood-laced cocaine and flushed the ashes down the commode. He ran hot water down the kitchen sink all the time he was working. He wanted to leave no sign of the poison. He seriously doubted the Peruvians would do an autopsy on the three men.
He opened Weaslen’s computer and quickly found all the cardinal’s banking accounts, which held over a billion dollars. He opened a new account online for the Lima Archdiocese and transferred all the funds from Weaslen’s accounts to the new account. He did the same with Travail and Steinhoff’s accounts. Later, he would send the archdiocese an email with the account and its passwords. He fished the keys to the papal briefcase from Weaslen’s pocket. He locked the case and casually walked from the room, locking the door behind him.
Back in his room, he packed to leave the next morning. He would have no bag to check. TSA could go through his carry-on. Now there was nothing to be found. He would board as Air Marshal Lincoln Crockett, wearing his firearm and escorting the papal briefcase, handcuffed to his wrist, to the archbishop in Miami. He knew the briefcase would not be searched. He also knew no one would report the money missing. It was drug money.
Pulling out his laptop, he wrote a letter from the Pope, giving him authorization to escort the briefcase to the archbishop, who would in turn take it to the Vatican. He carried his laptop downstairs to the hotel’s business center for guests and printed out the letter. He folded it and went back to his room, where he applied the papal seal to the authorization.