The Brimstone Diaries

by Rick Jones

“No!”

  “Yes! Do you believe for one moment that the Lord Almighty will turn a blind eye away from your decision to remain idle? He will not! You have been granted a great mission in life! You have been given a great purpose! Kneel no more and follow in your brother’s footsteps! God knows you have been gifted with the physical tools to see this through!”

  As his father’s voice receded, as the pain drifted away, Martin Gemini was able to get to his feet and focus. The world was a little less dizzy, a little less fuzzy, the items within his apartment in Rome now coming into clarity, especially the neon cross on the wall.

  Closing his eyes, he whispered, “Yes, Papa, I’ll continue to carry the battle scepter and soldier on.” How he would do this, however, had yet to come to him in revelation. But he was sure it would do so in some divine manner. After flipping the cover to the Brimstone Diaries closed, Martin Gemini, who had disappointed his father greatly with his idleness, pulled a box out from underneath the bed and removed the whip. Kneeling before the neon red cross high on the wall before him, he began to flog himself as punishment with his penance coming by way of multiple lashes that caused the angel wings on his back to bleed.

  Chapter Forty-One

  ––––––––

  Serbia

  After the short flight from Damascus to Istanbul, and then a drive over tough terrain to Bulgaria, Fariq made it to Serbia and hit all the required checkpoints that had been predetermined ahead of time by ISIS principals. With the road bumpy along the backroads, Fariq was worried about the state of the sphere inside the lead-lined container, but he was placed at ease by the driver when he was informed that the sphere itself was harmless without the chain reaction of the triggering mechanism. Still, it didn’t satisfy Fariq enough that the sphere, which was the size of a grapefruit, was capable of leveling half of Rome and the entirety of Vatican City, while bouncing on uneven roads. As the trip continued and the roads became a little less bumpy, Fariq was sure that everything was moving along smoothly under the direction of Allah’s guidance. Such as the friendly checkpoints where the eyes of the inspectors turned away as they held their palms out to be greased, which they were, and substantially. After that the roads from Slovenia into Italy became smoother, the travel becoming less punitive to their backsides. Soon, thought Fariq, ISIS will once again reign as a global terror. As the vehicle drove through the scenic route of Italy’s most gorgeous terrain, the Syrian could barely contain himself as he smiled inwardly.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ––––––––

  The Vatican

  Vatican City

  While Robert Bowman was meeting with the pontiff where there was exalted pleasure on both sides of the meeting—with Bowman meeting John Paul III and the pontiff meeting someone who came from the most cherished bloodline— Kimball Hayden found himself alone with Father Ferrano outside the front entryway of the Apostolic Palace, which was protected by a pair of Swiss Guards.

  “We’ve yet to find the book,” stated the priest.

  “We will. We now know that there’s another out there,” said Kimball. “Somewhere. We know what he looks like. Forensics has the computer which will help trace his actions. It won’t be long before the system tracks him down, now that we’re confident that Opus Dei is not involved. My team will locate Gemini and bring him in.”

  “Well, let us hope and pray that the Gemini brothers didn’t turn their religion into a crusade,” said Ferrano. “If they did, then the job for the Vatican Knights may be too great to overcome, since there’s nothing more dangerous than an enemy who’s faceless.”

  “Thing is, Father, we have at least one face to this. Once we find Gemini, we’ll find the book.”

  Father Ferrano, however, didn’t sound as confident when he said, “I pray that you do.”

  “And you?”

  Father Ferrano looked at the basilica’s dome and then at the rest of the city.

  “Once we find the Brimstone Diaries,” he said, “then I’ll return to the Middle East where I’m needed most. I’ll gather intel along with members of The Mossad, and then I’ll pass them on to other agencies like the CIA and MI6. It’s what I do with Vatican Intelligence. And it’s what I’ll continue to do until I can do it no longer.” “And when is that, Father? Until you can do it no more, I mean? Until you see the Light?”

  The priest nodded. “Or until I die, whichever comes first. But let us both pray that I find the Light before my life ends,” he said, laughing softly. Then on a more serious note, he added, “Seeking salvation isn’t easy for neither one of us, is it?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps,” said Father Ferrano, “we’ve already been forgiven but don’t know it yet. Hmm? And I say this because the hardest thing for any man to do is forgive himself. This we both know, yes?”

  Kimball didn’t respond. He simply gave the priest a neutral look while keeping his thoughts to himself.

  “The thing with Gemini,” said Father Ferrano. “is that fanatics like him do not reason well since they are blind to any form of rationalization. And that makes him dangerous, Kimball, no matter the skillset your team possesses to neutralize him.”

  “We’ll deal with the situation properly.”

  “I’m sure you will.” The priest gave Kimball a slight nod of his head as if bidding farewell. “If you’ll please excuse me,” he said, “I’ve much to do.”

  “Of course.”

  With his hands clasped behind the small of his back, Father Ferrano left the Vatican Knight under a wonderful blue sky and a few scudding clouds.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  ––––––––

  Rome, Italy

  Feeling dirty after donning the second skin of Cardinal Alnasseri once again, Abdallah Kattan reminisced when his brother Mabus captained the ISIS legion in the central and southern parts of Syria, until Kimball Hayden hunted him down and planted the terrorist’s head on a pike that bordered the village he terrorized. It was a statement by the Vatican Knight that the people were now safe, and that Mabus’ reign had ended with the same brand of cruelty he had ruled by. Inside of his flat in Rome, the man who became Cardinal Alnasseri was standing on his balcony when there was a rapping at his door. Without turning, he shouted, “Please, come in!”

  The door to the apartment opened and then closed.

  Footfalls sounded across the marble floor as someone approached.

  Then turning with his arms folded defensively across his chest and his back against the balcony railing, Cardinal Alnasseri confronted his guest. “Where have you been?”

  “In London,” stated the man. “Where I was doing my due diligence in the scheme of things.”

  Cardinal Alnasseri turned away from his guest to once again overlook the scenery from his balcony.

  A moment later, Father Ferrano joined his side.

  * * *

  With a clear sky that offered little chance of rain, Father Ferrano admired the beauty of Cardinal Alnasseri’s view. “It’s a shame,” he finally said, “that all this has to go away.”

  “We’re getting close to our targeted date,” said Cardinal Alnasseri. “Only a couple of days, in fact.”

  “The hardware is complete?”

  “Not yet. Fariq is transporting the final piece as we speak. Master Kang is developing the unit and prepping it for the sphere.”

  “But you fear that something can happen within that time, yes?”

  Abdallah Kattan said, “I fear the Vatican Knights. And I fear the one who leads them.”

  “Kimball Hayden.”

  “You know he killed my brother, right?”

  Father Ferrano nodded. “I’ve read his file. It’s always an advantage to know your foe better than he knows himself. Kimball Hayden will not be a worry when the moment comes, since the interests of the church lay elsewhere. Though there is an investigation underway by Vatican Intelligence regarding the disappearance of Cardinal Restucci.”

  Cardinal Alnasse
ri nodded. “Which they’ll never find since he’d been diced into pieces so small that the rats had feasted well, or so I was informed by Fariq.”

  “Since I remain on the inside,” said Father Ferrano, “I’ll continue to monitor the situations as they move along. If I hear of any red flags, Kattan, I will surely pass them along.”

  “All I need is a couple of days.”

  “And you shall have them.”

  “What about Kimball Hayden?”

  “I’m afraid he has his hands full at the moment. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have your vengeance against the man who murdered your brother.”

  “It has always been my vision to replicate what he did to Mabus by placing his head on the end of a pointed staff on the edge of Vatican City, like he did with my brother’s head along the border of the village he once ruled.”

  “You might as well forget that notion right now,” Father Ferrano told him.

  “He’s a man who always keeps one eye looking forward and one eye looking behind. It would be nearly impossible to catch him with his guard down. Be happy with the idea, Kattan, that in two days’ time he will burn in the Abyss.”

  “Still.” The man in cardinal’s clothing brought his hands up before his face.

  They were shaking badly, his rage barely contained.

  Father Ferrano noticed the severe trembling. “You need to calm down, Kattan,” he told him. “What you want is small in comparison to what Allah wants. In the end the man you want dead will be, though it may not be how you image it in your mind. You need to focus.”

  Abdallah Kattan lowered his hands, drew in a deep breath, and released a heavy sigh. Then: “You’re right.”

  “Focus,” Father Ferrano repeated. “And rewards will be shared by all.”

  “You know me,” said Kattan. “I’m a person of calm demeanor. But Kimball Hayden—” He cut himself off.

  “Don’t let the notion of vengeance corrupt you,” said Father Ferrano. “Allow Allah His will.”

  Looking at his hands once more, Kattan had gained a measure of control. They were no longer shaking as he gripped the railing of his balcony. Then he said, “Keep me posted about everything that goes on with Vatican Intelligence.” “I have been sharing intel from Vatican Intelligence all along with our brothers in the Middle East,” Father Ferrano told him. “Which has aided in our ability to evade positioning forces.”

  “I’m talking about the Vatican Knights,” Kattan said. “Especially Kimball Hayden. I know what he’s capable of. I’ve seen it firsthand in Syria.” And then: “Do you know what they call him in the Middle East.

  Father Ferrano turned to Kattan, who continued to look out over the landscape, and answered, “The Devil’s Magician.”

  “That’s right,” said Kattan. “The Devil’s Magician. Remember that as the time gets closer.”

  Saying nothing more, Father Ferrano turned and left the apartment. On the balcony with eyes that were as dark as pitch, Abdallah Kattan, in the guise of Cardinal Alnasseri, watched the sun slowly set in the west.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  ––––––––

  Rome

  In an area close to the Coliseum, Father Ferrano was on his laptop typing away inside of his apartment. The lights were off and the glow from the monitor’s screen cast ghoulish shadows along his face. As he sat promoting ISIS propaganda through the web, Father Ferrano was a chameleon who wore the cloth of a priest interchangeably by segueing easily from a man of a pious nature, to one whose venture in life was to bring down the Vatican from the inside out.

  Born from an American father and a Syrian mother, he entered the world as Joseph “Joey” Ferrano, though his Syrian name was Faisal Naba, which was the name given to him by his mother since he had been born on Syrian soil. His father had been a U.N. Inspector investigating allegations of possible WMD concealment in Iraq, and his mother a housewife, with his father outside of his element in Iraq when the second conflict broke out in 2003. During the bombing raids his father had been killed, so Joseph “Joey” Ferrano, or Faisal Naba, along with his mother, returned to the comfort of her family members where they sat out the war. During this time Faisal Naba, though he looked much like his father with a dark complexion and olive-colored skin, discovered anger and hatred and all the divisive things his father had stood for as an American. People in his land were dying by the scores; friends, family and people who had no connection to the war but were forced to hide in the ruins of one bombing fallout after another.

  As he grew so did his anger for the Americans, making him ashamed that he shared a bloodline through his father. But he found comfort with the Islamic State and believed in their ideologies that Allah would guide them from the wasteland to create a nation under one God and one rule. He believed that strength came from within, and that Allah provided that spark. As he grew and developed, Joseph “Joey” Ferrano dropped his name for Faisal Naba, his given name from his mother, and sought to fight the Coalition Forces that were governed by the Great Satan. He had grown through the ranks with intelligence that was elite and his command strong. He had insight and awareness, which kept the Syrian-American always a step ahead of his enemy. But he was a realist as well, knowing that ISIS was too ill-equipped to take on such commanding forces of the Coalition and win. That was when he met Mabus, a ruler and a king of ISIS who mastered the takeover of central and southern Syria, making the land a self-proclaimed capital of the regime. Still, this kingdom was only temporary, which was something Faisal Naba knew but could say nothing in fear of retaliation for not believing in the power of Allah.

  Then as the Coalition forces spread throughout the north, Faisal Naba was driven to the central area where he met Abdallah Kattan, who was the brother of Mabus. Together they forged an alliance and became close, their ideologies the umbilical tie that bound them together as brothers fighting for a similar cause. But when Mabus was killed by Kimball Hayden the dynamics shifted. Legions appeared to be lost now that the head of the snake was removed and promptly sported on a stake at the edge of the village he ruled, with the achievement of Mabus’ death letting the insurgents know that their king was no longer the absolute tip of the spear.

  Even here and far from the incursion of Coalition Forces, ISIS was losing ground to the Vatican Knights. Once Kimball Hayden showcased Mabus’ death which signaled the beginning of the end, Faisal Naba and Abdallah Kattan found a solution of their own. Abdallah had done so by spiriting away the life of Cardinal Alnasseri to usurp his position, the Arab a remarkable doppelganger whose features resembled the true cardinal with marginal differences.

  Joseph “Joey” Ferrano, or Faisal Naba, was able to break the ranks by developing false biographical records that had been expertly planted into the hacked data files of certain intel agencies for background investigations. It was true that Ferrano was of American heritage through his father, the history noted and recorded. But it was Ferrano who went into the databanks to create a history that never was, such as being a sniper for an Army Ranger regiment. Once this was completed, he developed additional information regarding his Jesuit communion to the priesthood. That, coupled with his military career, opened doors for him to work the field as an intel operative on behalf of the church, who would work in collusion with other notable agencies such as the Mossad and the CIA, which he did as a double agent. Whenever data was accumulated regarding the movement of ISIS troops, Naba would inform them prior to the assault against them from Coalition forces. But he also knew that the creations of biographical records would eventually raise red flags and eventually blow his cover.

  Either way, together they would destroy the enemy from within, with Abdallah Kattan and Faisal Naba breaching the ranks of the Vatican only to walk amongst the enemy unseen until the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica crumbled, and that the State of Vatican City was reduced to a ruin like their homeland. Now, after years of planning, and with the Arabs being a patient people, they had positioned themselves with the final st
roke of the city’s downfall only days away. The Vatican, along with Rome, would become a poisoned environment for thousands of years to come.

  Finishing his statement that would reach the black hearts of those who sat before their computers romancing ideals of one rule under one God, the man who was both Joseph Ferrano and Faisal Naba logged off after masking his cyber trail. But it was only a matter of time before they would trace the messages back to him, as well as to discover his true past and history. But it didn’t matter, he thought, since the Vatican was about to become a wasteland.

  “And when it does,” he said out loud to himself. “Father Joseph Ferrano will die, and Faisal Naba will live.” Then silently to himself: it’s inevitable.

  Getting up from his seat, Father Ferrano removed his Roman Catholic band from his collar, placed it on the table, and retired for the night.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ––––––––

  Vatican Intelligence

  The Vatican

  Early Morning Hours. 2:17 a.m.

  Techs had poured over the files from the laptop that had been taken from the assassin’s quarters in London. After encrypting the data, they were able to establish and confirm communication from a second source regarding the systematic killings of the messianic bloodline. The encrypted data marked the names, dates of birth, their location, everything needed to hunt down the target with the information having been decoded from the pages of the Brimstone Diaries. Then, when retracing the signature point of the incoming emails, they were able to detect the location through the sending unit’s IP address. They were coming from Rome. After Fathers Auciello and Essex were notified in the early morning hours, the co-directors immediately notified Kimball Hayden. Within fifteen minutes, Kimball was inside the Intelligence Command Center beneath the basilica.