Joe listened to the Pope say this and knew it was heartfelt. Neither he nor Ariana argued with him when the chief of the Swiss Guard looked at them for help. Even the cardinal was concerned, not only with the crowd size but with the close quarters it created and the logistical problems of communion. Normally those receiving communion would proceed down the center aisle in two lines and then go to the right or left back up the aisle. But the side aisles would be clogged with extra seats and people standing.
“We will have one line of people to receive communion down the center aisle and they will return down the center aisle,” Pope Luke Paul proclaimed. He sat in a chair in the cathedral’s anteroom. The cardinal sat opposite.
The Boston Police Commissioner didn’t dare say a word through his grim compressed lips. The FBI SAC wanted to speak, but he slid a glance to Ariana and she moved her head in the slightest gesture indicating a negative. The chief of the Swiss Guard stood tall and complacent having already done his duty and having faith in the Pope.
Joe met the Pope’s eyes and waited. After several beats of silence where Joe could not gather the nerve or the will to override His Holiness, the man smiled. He nodded and raised his hand in a gesture of blessing, keeping his eyes on Joe. The wash of serene calm coalesced into a resolve to succeed in his mission as an assuredness as hard as the marble floors settled in.
“Cardinal O’Mara, please assemble the priests who will be charged with orchestrating the communion and those who will be participating on the altar.” Ariana spoke respectfully, but the command in her voice was unmistakable. They would have obeyed her even if the Pope hadn’t been there backing up her authority.
Everyone took their places in the anteroom. The organ high in the balcony began playing, sending reverberations through Joe’s body. It felt too much like foreboding. The procession of those performing the mass moved out into the altar area with Pope Luke Paul following last, flanked by Joe and Ariana. Once the Pope took his place at the altar, Joe and Ariana dropped back and Mass began.
It wasn’t hard to maintain a vigilant watch. This was what Joe had been trained to do. He’d been on too many surveillance missions to count and this wasn’t much different—if you didn’t count that it was in a cathedral with organ music playing in the background in stead of some rocky outback with gunfire in the background. Until they reached the point in the Mass when the Pope was to give communion, his pulse had been slow and steady.
Now as Pope Luke Paul moved forward, he and Ariana rejoined him, staying tight to his sides as he took his place on the floor in front of the people, his people. Joe watched the single file procession as person after person of every description came forward, reverent, smiling, crying and in awe. Joe watched their hands. He examined each of them several places back in line.
He spotted a swarthy man, of Mediterranean origin, could have been Greek or Italian or Armenian or Turkish or from any one of the Middle Eastern countries, two places back, with a hand in his pocket. He followed closely behind a young woman.
Joe kept his eye on the man’s hand, counting the beats until he moved forward where upon Joe planned to remove the hand from the man’s pocket before he got in front of the Pope. Joe hadn’t been watching the woman in front of the man as closely.
But when she stepped aside she stepped the wrong way. She was supposed to step to the right, to Joe’s side. Instead, she moved to the left. Joe’s mind lit up deep down in the primal recesses that ruled survival instincts. He knew something was wrong and shifted toward the woman.
In that instant, the woman fell in a dead faint, directly in front of Ariana. In the split-second Joe had to observe this he knew it was all wrong, knew they wanted Ariana to assist the woman, knew there would be someone else moving in for the attack. Joe’s eyes snapped to the swarthy man who’d been behind her, the one with his hand in his pocket. The man was moving toward the collapsed woman, but Joe couldn’t see the hand in his pocket.
As if in freeze-frame motion the man lunged forward, but not toward the fallen woman. Joe watched the man slip a porcelain knife from inside his jacket pocket and instead of moving toward the woman on the floor, he lunged. But not toward the Pope, toward Ariana.
Joe pulled the Pope backward where the two Swiss Guards behind them took charge of the him. Then Joe barreled into the man with the knife before he hit his target, Ariana. The man yelled some obscenity in a language Joe didn’t understand as he rolled and scrambled to his feet as his knife clattered to the floor. Joe went for him, reaching out to take him down. The man brought a second knife around from behind. Ariana rushed in to kicked the the man’s arm, but he was fast and Joe was right there.
The slice into Joe’s gut didn’t hurt, not enough to stop him from pushing the heel of his hand into the man’s nose, bouncing his head back and exploding a mess of blood. The perpetrator crumpled to the marble floor.Joe bent forward, feeling the sticky blood oozing from below his Kevlar. He felt dizzy, assaulted by hands from everywhere, lifting him, moving him.
Caressing him.
6
Joe opened his eyes to see nothing but bright light, but he knew he wasn’t in heaven because his left side hurt like a son of a bitch.
“You’re awake.” Her voice sounded like music, like an angel, and he thought he may as well be in heaven if he were with her. He smelled the sweet fragrance of her before her face came into focus in front of him.
“It is a great blessing.” He heard the Pope’s voice from the other side of the bed where he lay and he turned to see him. It was unbelievable to him that the Pope would be at his bedside when he must have other more important things to do, people to see.
“I had to be here with Ariana. She won’t let me from her side and she would not budge from your side.” He smiled ruefully and spread his hands.
He wore a simple white cassock with a matching pellegrina, but without the white fringed fascia and pectoral cross he usually wore in casual settings. The white zucchetto was there on his head and Joe looked down to see the red papal shoes.
“Don’t let him kid you,” Ariana said. Joe turned back to her, to see her glistening, loving eyes. He wasn’t sure if the affection was for him or the Pope. He hoped for both.
“The Pope ordered the limo to the hospital,” she said.
“When I saw the way you looked when they put Joe in the back of the ambulance, how you wanted to go with him, to comfort him, I would have been a cruel and heartless master if I did not come here with you.”
Joe watched them look at each other with unspoken understanding, with rivers of silent communication beneath their words.
Pope Luke Paul leaned forward and said to Joe, “You saved my Ari’s life, Joe. I wanted to come here to bless you and thank you and pray for you to heal quickly.” He reached a hand out and took Joe’s hand in his. It was warm and powerful at the same time, comforting and mighty.
Ariana moved close on the other side, tearing his attention away from the grip of His Holiness. The Pope sat back in his chair.
“You knew that man was there to attack me, Joe. How did you know?” Ariana asked.
“Don’t look at me. It was his idea.” Joe pointed a thumb in the direction of the Pope.
That was only the second time Joe had ever heard the Pope laugh wholeheartedly, more than his warm, sad chuckle. His eyes were lit and his grin wide.
Ariana looked astonished at first and Joe had no idea why. She must know the Pope’s insight and genius for predicting these things.
“Pope Luke Paul wanted me here to protect you, not him. He knew the attack would be on you well before I figured it out.” He paused as if to gather himself for a confession. “In fact, I didn’t realize you were the target until almost the last second.”
She nodded with a wry smile and folded her arms across her chest.
“You both conspired without letting me know. Why?”
“Ari, I knew it would be better for you not to worry about Joe or about me.” The Pope was brilliant, leav
ing out any notion that she might have concern for herself, because he knew she wouldn’t have.
Ariana let out a long breath.
“I can’t argue with the two men who saved my life.”
“I did nothing. You must credit Joseph Knight, aptly named, with protecting you from harm. That I knew he would do it is no great feat.” The Pope stood then and Ari moved around the bed to join him.
He saw the disappointment on her face.
The Pope raised two hands before she reached his side.
“No, my young one. You must not leave Joe’s side. Although his prognosis is good, I would feel better if you stayed and bestowed your warmth and affection to ensure his health. I will be accompanied by the three Swiss Guards outside the door and stay at Cardinal O’Mara’s residence. We will leave in the morning.”
She said nothing. She escorted the Pope to the door and spoke to the guards outside. That surprised the hell out of Joe. He’d been certain she’d insist on going with His Holiness. He found his heart beating hard and the pain in his side disappear. It was the unmistakable sign of adrenaline. It was usually reserved for a fight or a dangerous situation, not alone time with a woman.
But maybe his body sensed danger in that, danger in spending alone time with the love of his life, the love he could never have. There was the distinct danger that his heart would be broken, shattered into too many pieces to be restored. His chest tightened until he forced himself to breathe deeply.
7
Logan International Airport
They stood in a small circle, apart from the Swiss Guards, Cardinal O’Mara, and the rest of the Pope’s entourage who traveled with him.
Joe had insisted on leaving the hospital after being bandaged, against the advice of the doctor and everyone else with a mouth within hearing distance. He didn’t care. He needed to see her off, needed to let her go this one last time. For good. He needed to see her physically disappear from his life to make it final for him.
Now she stood with him, holding him up, sharing her warmth and energy on the clear crisp spring morning. She’d spent the night by his side, but he knew better than to read anything into that. It was the fierce protector in her, looking after the vulnerable. That, and she was probably showing how grateful she was that he’d saved her life.
The Alitalia jetliner referred to as Shepherd 1 stood ready thirty feet beyond them. Pope Luke Paul would take his volo papale back to Rome with an entourage of more than the usual thirty people, beefed up with extra security Joe had called in from Omega Team. But it would be light one passenger.
She stood there next to Joe on his wounded side, with her look of momentary shock already dissipating into understanding. He’d expected her to argue once the sudden realization hit him, but one didn’t argue with the Pope. Not even Ariana Day, His Holiness’s personal security detail, his protégé, his little bambina he’d loved like a granddaughter all her life and had held beside him for many years.
She left Joe’s side with a squeeze of his arm and went to Pope Luke Paul, hugging him, kissing each cheek as he held her arms. When she stood back from him he reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Joe watched and almost stepped forward until the Pope pinned him with his wise all-seeing eyes.
“Ari, bambina, you are too dear to me to watch you suffer this way.”
“Suffer? What do you mean?”
Pope Luke Paul gave her his signature knowing smile, with that hint of sadness that pierced Joe’s heart. His heart fired up like a racer stomping on the gas pedal to rev his engine, ready to fly. Joe tried breathing steady but he found himself not breathing at all as the Pope continued.
“I want you to be happy. I do not want you to give up your whole life in service to me. Your father and I never meant for this as a sentence for you. I am grateful for how much of yourself you have given to this old man already.”
Joe’s chest tightened as he watched tears streaming down Ari’s face. His heart broke for her.
The Pope paused and Joe had never seen this calmest of calm men struggle to find words before. Somehow he thought the Pope hadn’t encountered this difficulty in a very long time, if ever.
“You’re firing me?” Her voice was calm and sad, like she was resigned to the punishment she deserved.
Pope Luke Paul nodded his head.
“Only because I know you would never resign. I want your happiness most of all,” he said to Ariana. She nodded. Her tears streamed unabated as she stood there still as marble.
“And I want you protected most of all.” Strength reverberated in her voice in spite of her tears.
“Alas, even I am not immortal, bambina. Give me babies from you and Joe to live for and I will see what I can do to survive long enough to see them.”
Her laugh was strangled and Joe watched the pink rise to her face. Pope Luke Paul nodded to the head Swiss Guard then and turned. Two guards closed in to escort him. They retreated to the plane and climbed the steps onto the jetliner for the volo papale back to Rome and Vatican City.
Joe’s heart stuttered, caught between profound sadness and ecstatic joy. They watched, standing where they were when he left them, as the dark oval of the jet’s doorway swallowed the wise old man, his Eminence Pope Luke Paul.
Joe didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say or how to feel. After a moment, Ariana heaved a breath and turned away from Shepherd 1, back to him. She made a perfunctory swipe at her tear-stained cheek with one hand. Her eyes glittered at him.
He stopped short of the consolation he was about to offer her. He watched her morph from heartbroken over the destruction of her career as she knew it to angry and determined. The change in her took too few heartbeats to count. He hoped to hell the anger wasn’t aimed at him.
“I want a full partnership in Black Knight Security. I won’t take a subordinate role.”
Boom.
“Just like that?”
She went to him and slipped her arm through his.
“I’ve cried more than enough over you and my career. I’m done.”
“Don’t hold it against Pope Luke.”
“You think that’s why I’m angry?”
He hoped that’s why she was angry. He said nothing. She propelled them back toward the cardinal’s limo that had taken them to the airport. The driver was to take Joe to his home and then return.
“I’m not angry with Pope Luke. I take him at his word that he is letting me go for my own happiness. Did you think he meant otherwise?”
“I don’t know Ariana. Maybe I’m feeling guilty, like we betrayed him.”
“You heard the story he told us. He knew. He saw the handwriting on the wall before we did.” She paused and studied his face with that scary blood stirring intensity that she had. “What are we going to do about it?”
“I’ll make you a full partner in Black Knight Security.” He smiled.
She laughed.
“And?”
“And I’ll make you my wife. If you want.” He spoke without thinking, not something he ever did. His heart beat at a punishing rate and he felt sweat pop on his forehead. They’d never discussed this, not really. He had no idea what he was doing.
She stopped and studied his face again. The engine of Shepherd 1 roared to life as it started taxiing away. Wind swirled around them. She looked more tender than intense this time.
“I do want that. I don’t know why, or when I decided, but I do.”
He swung around and hugged her to him without wincing at the pain in his side. They stood a few yards from the limo. His gaze swept the area to determine that they were alone. A few airport workers followed the jet as it maneuvered to the runway. Cardinal O’Malley and his attending priests were gone. All the security personnel had gone with the Pope or disbanded. There were no reporters.
After the incident at the cathedral, all concern about appeasing the public had disappeared. Arrangements for the Pope’s departure this morning were quick and quiet.
&n
bsp; They were alone enough for Joe to kiss her now. He lowered his head and met her lips with his, brushed them and then lingered, tasting her and savoring.
This is right. Was it possible that this was what they could have forever now?
The limo horn beeped.
Joe raised his head and looked over her shoulder at the driver. Ari laughed, sounding giddy, happy. Peace settled around him like a cozy blanket. He separated from her and put his arm around her on his good side, walking her the rest of the way to the car.
“How are you at cooking?”
“As good as you.”
“We can eat out.”
“We could hire a cook.”
He stopped at the limo door before opening it.
“I’m still in charge, even though we’re partners.”
She laughed again, even giddier than before.
“You think that’s funny?”
She nodded. “It’s always going to be a negotiation.”
He sighed and opened the door, his heart racing and his mind spinning with the exciting possibilities. They settled in the back seat.
“Where to?” the limo driver asked.
Joe gave him his address. The driver whistled as if he knew the location.
Ariana raised a brow. “A swanky address?”
“Only the swankiest for you.” Then he realized, “You have no clothes. All of your things were on Shepherd 1.”
The limo driver cleared his throat.
“Not that I’m eavesdropping, but Ms. Day’s luggage is in the trunk. His Holiness asked me to keep them there.”
Joe watched Ariana open her mouth and look startled, then the sad look come back. Tears glittered then spilled and he knew what to do this time, now that the shock had gone and the reality had begun to sink in.
He held her tight and she rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face. She cried, softly, for a long while, for the loss of the way of life, the one she’d spent with the one other man on the planet who might love her as much as Joe did.
The Omega Team_Knight & Day Page 6