Hostaged Vatican

by Gar Wilson

  The guy was a terrorist and a fanatic. If the situation were reversed, he probably would not have cared if Encizo suffocated. That is, if he did not simply cut the Cuban's throat. However, the situation was not reversed and Rafael Encizo was not a murderer. He stuffed the gag in his pocket and stepped from behind the desk.

  "Well, the hostages are supposed to be at the Museo Pio-Clementino," James remarked, consulting his map. "That means we head east... I think."

  "That sounds encouraging," Encizo muttered as he inspected his H&K machine pistol. "You know, this damn thing jammed on me a minute ago and almost got me killed. Before we go any farther I'd like to know what's wrong with it."

  "Maybe you'd better take a weapon from one of the dead terrorists," James suggested. "They don't need them, and the way we're burning up ammo on this mission it might not be a bad idea to do a bit of borrowing."

  "Yeah," Encizo said. "Only problem is they're using all sorts of guns. American, Russian, Czech, Italian and who knows what else. And they have different calibers too. Everything from seven-point-six..."

  The Cuban stopped in midsentence. He stared at his H&K and smiled, shaking his head at the same time. James had never found anything amusing about a weapon jamming before. He wondered if they had released Encizo a little early from the hospital.

  "The safety catch was on," Encizo explained with a chuckle that combined amusement, irony and relief. "Must have happened when I slugged that clown in the face with the gun. The catch was pushed over when the frame hit him."

  'Then there was no malfunction," the black warrior sighed. "Good. We can get back to hunting for the hostages."

  Neither man had much opportunity to admire the reception hall of the Museo Chiaramonti. Intricate cherubim had been carved into the walls. Enormous oil paintings of the Sermon on the Mount, the Crucifixion and Mary with the Christ Child hung on the walls. A display case contained a solid gold crucifix adorned with diamonds and rubies. A tapestry depicted the ordeal of St. Lawrence, the Christian martyr who had been tortured and executed on a grill.

  The two Phoenix fighters moved through the hall toward the adjacent museums. Three figures appeared from the mouth of a corridor. Encizo immediately sprayed the trio with two bursts of three-round messages of death. Parabellums stitched the upper torsos of two terrorists. Only one man managed to utter a cry of alarm before he collapsed onto the marble floor.

  Calvin James triggered his Commander twice. Both .45 slugs plowed into the chest of the third terrorist. The impact picked the man up, hurled him three feet and slammed his body against a pedestal supporting a bust of Pope Gregory V. The dead man rocked the foundations. Gregory tipped over and crashed to the floor. The stone head split in two, sending pieces of marble in every direction.

  Two shapes suddenly charged from a doorway near the Phoenix pair. James swung his pistol toward the attackers as a long pole with a curved head lashed out at him. Wood struck metal, deflecting the aim of the Commander. James fired the weapon a split instant before it slipped from his fingers. The bullet ricocheted against marble as the Basque terrorist lunged with his shepherd's staff.

  The other attacker was also a Basque zealot armed with a staff. The crook of his weapon snared Encizo's MP-5 and pulled the barrel toward James. Encizo dropped his H&K out of fear that he would accidentally shoot his friend. The Basque executed a low sweep with his staff and hooked Encizo behind the left knee.

  The Cuban's leg buckled, and he fell backward into the display case. The Basque terrorist swung his staff like an axe. The hard wood shaft whistled past Encizo's head as the Phoenix commando pushed away from the case. Glass shattered, and the display case burst. The terrorist held his staff in combat readiness as he turned to face Encizo.

  Encizo's left hand suddenly seized the shaft between the terrorist's fists. The Cuban's right hand drew the Cold Steel Tanto from its sheath. He lunged with the big steel knife. The point pierced the Basque's solar plexus. Encizo shoved hard, driving the sharp blade upward. Skin and muscle were severed as the Tanto cut deep into the chest cavity. The heart and major arteries were destroyed by the deadly thrust. The terrorist opened his mouth to scream, but the only sound he uttered was a faint, liquid death rattle.

  Calvin James ducked beneath the lashing staff of the other Basque assailant. The terrorist altered the stroke and swooped the crook of the staff toward James's neck. The black warrior raised a shoulder to block the hook before it could secure a bone-crushing hold. He quickly grabbed the staff with both hands and shoved it upward.

  The Basque struggled to hold on to his weapon. James promptly snapped a kick to his opponent's groin. The terrorist gasped and folded at the middle. The Phoenix fighter's left hand slashed a karate chop to the guy's wrist and jerked the staff from his opponent's grasp.

  The furious Basque lunged and wrapped both arms around James's midsection. He locked his hands together at the small of the warrior's back and squeezed, exerting fierce pressure under the ribs. The Basque was a strong son of a bitch. He lifted James easily and squeezed harder, trying to crush the breath out of the black crusader.

  James gasped for air, inhaling as much as possible. Then he clapped his open palms against his opponent's ears. The Basque groaned, but refused to release the bear hug. James swatted the goon's ears again. A howl of agony announced that one of the Basque's eardrums had been ruptured. The terrorist flung James aside and grabbed his head with both hands.

  Calvin James scrambled up from the floor and whirled into a tae kwon do wheel kick. The back of his heel slammed into the Basque's lower abdomen. The guy doubled up, and James whipped a backhanded fist at his face. The blow snapped the Basque's head back. James immediately slashed the side of his hand across his opponent's exposed throat.

  The terrorist's windpipe was crushed by the stroke. He staggered backward, choking on his own blood. James did not take any chances with the formidable Basque. He leaped forward and kicked his opponent's skull. His boot caught the terrorist in the left temple. The Basque fell to the floor and completed the final stages of dying.

  "Jesus," Calvin James rasped, gasping for breath. "These guys are as bad as the ninja. Where the hell did they come from?"

  "That doesn't really matter now," Encizo replied as he retrieved his H&K machine pistol.

  "I guess not," James admitted with a shrug. "I just hope it doesn't happen again."

  The Phoenix pair moved through the halls of the Museo Chiaramonti toward the building where the hostages were held prisoner. The sound of an amplified voice stopped the warriors.

  "What's going on?" James whispered to his partner.

  "I don't know," Encizo admitted as he moved toward the sound. "I only know a handful of words in Italian. Just enough to order the right kind of pasta."

  The pair approached the west wall and listened as a voice translated the previous announcement into English.

  "To the invading gangsters of the imperialist forces of the West," Radmeni's amplified voice began. "If you do not surrender within fifteen minutes, ten hostages will be executed. If you fail to heed this warning, we will be forced to execute ten more hostages every half hour until you surrender to us."

  "Son of a bitch," James rasped, shaking his head. "Should have guessed these bastards would pull a stunt like this."

  "We did," Encizo reminded him. "But we thought we could take out the enemy before they could get around it."

  "The governments of Italy, the United States and Britain deny that they sent you on this mission against the Islamic Jihad," Radmeni's voice continued. "They have abandoned you to your fate, just as they abandoned the citizens of their own nations whom we hold hostage. We have contacted them, and they still claim they are unable to order you to surrender. That is how little they care about your lives or the lives of the hostages. Surrender to us and we shall be merciful."

  "Don't you love a guy who ends a speech with a joke?" James muttered. "What are we going to do?"

  "Pretty stupid for us to surrender," E
ncizo replied. "But we can't stand by and let them kill innocent people."

  "Think we can reach the Museo Pio-Clementino and find the hostages before the terrorists march them out to a firing squad?"

  "I doubt it," Encizo answered. "Even if we could, we'd probably walk right into a trap."

  "So what do we do?" James wondered aloud. "Try to find the firing squad?"

  "Makes sense," the Cuban said with a nod. "They'll probably have the firing squad outside, but they'll want to maintain security."

  "That means they'll shoot the hostages in one of the courtyards," James remarked, checking the map. "Either the Pigna or the Belvedere Courtyard."

  "The Pigna or Pinecone Courtyard is the closest," Encizo noted as he leaned over James's shoulder to observe the map. "If we can get to the roof, we should be able to check the courtyard. If they don't have the hostages there, we can climb from the museum roof to the top of the Vatican Library and look down into the Belvedere Courtyard."

  "Yeah," James agreed, folding the map. "But you know, the terrorists might figure we'll try to hit the firing squad. They might have an ambush waiting for us."

  "That's a fact," Encizo admitted. "I think we should do it anyway."

  "Hell," James said with a wiry grin. "We wouldn't be doing this sort of thing if we wanted to play it safe. Let's do it."

  16

  "Yakov," Gary Manning whispered to the Phoenix Force commander as the two men crept among the orchards beyond the world-famous Pontifical Academy of Services. "These terrorists aren't bluffing. They'll kill the hostages."

  "Unfortunately that is a distant possibility," Katzenelenbogen replied softly as he peered through a pair of infrared goggles. "But we can't do anything about that right now."

  "Damn it, Yakov," the Canadian hissed through clenched teeth. "This goes against my grain..."

  "The others are in a better position to help the hostages," Katz insisted. "They understand English. They heard the message the same as we did, and if they can save the hostages, they'll do so. Right now we have to take care of the earthquake device. It poses a threat not only to the hostages but to the entire Vatican and the people of Rome. That makes it top priority, Gary."

  "You're right," Manning reluctantly admitted. "But I wish we could help those poor devils."

  "We'll pull the plug on the earthquake contraption and then join the others to rescue the hostages and put the terrorists out of business for good," the Israeli commando promised.

  Katz understood Manning's frustration. Ten people in front of a firing squad was an immediate and obvious threat. An alleged tunnel loaded with explosives that mightsuccessfully trigger an earthquake seemed a bit vague. Yet Manning himself had supported the feasibility of such a device. They could not afford to ignore the threat.

  The sound of footfalls drew their attention to a pathway that snaked through the orchard. Four terrorists were moving toward the Phoenix Force warriors. None of them seemed to be paying much attention to their surroundings. Two were Iranians and two were Basques. Each pair conversed in their native language.

  Careless, Katz thought. People in a dangerous profession can not afford to be careless. One might call it a mortal sin. Katz scanned the area to be certain the four terrorists were alone. He turned to Manning and tilted his head toward the enemy. The Canadian warrior nodded.

  The Phoenix pair stalked their quarry, silently and swiftly. They stepped lightly across the grassy turf, avoiding fallen twigs and leaves. The commandos used the natural cover of trees and bushes to conceal their presence as they drew closer to the unsuspecting terrorists.

  Katz bounded forward with the SIG Sauer autoloader in his left fist. The Israeli hammered the butt of the pistol into the base of a Basque's neck. The terrorist uttered a slight groan. His eyes rolled up into his skull, and he collapsed. Katz caught the Basque before the unconscious man could hit the ground.

  He shoved the senseless figure into the startled Iranian who had turned when he had heard the Basque moan. Katz used the unconscious man for a battering ram and knocked the Iranian to the ground. The stunned and disoriented terrorist fumbled with the shoulder strap of his AK-47 as he tried to unsling the weapon. Katz stepped forward and kicked the Iranian in the face before he could use the rifle.

  Manning seized the other Basque terrorist from behind and slammed his fist into the mastoid bone behind the guy's right ear. The Canadian wrenched the shepherd's staff from the Basque's grasp and quickly lashed the pole at the remaining Iranian flunky.

  The hardwood shaft chopped the Teheran-bred terrorist between shoulder and neck. His collarbone snapped from the force of the blow. The terrorist fell to one knee as his face contorted in pain. Manning delivered an abrupt sedative. He clubbed the guy across the skull with the staff.

  The Basque had recovered sufficiently from the punch to his mastoid to launch himself at the burly Canadian commando. He grabbed Manning from behind and snaked an arm around the Phoenix fighter's throat. Manning immediately swung the staff over his own head and flogged the shaft across his opponent's back. The Basque groaned. Manning hit him again.

  The arm moved from his throat as the Basque tried to ward off further blows from the staff. However, Manning discarded the weapon and rammed an elbow into the Basque's ribs. The Canadian quickly seized his opponent's arm and yanked him forward. Manning jammed his shoulder into the terrorist's armpit and raised him off the ground. The Canadian bent his waist and pulled hard. The terrorist was hurled over Manning's shoulder, and he crashed on his back. Manning kicked him in the side of the head to make certain the Basque would be resting for a while.

  Katz unslung his Uzi and braced the weapon across his prosthesis. The Israeli stood guard, watching for enemy troops, while Manning bound the unconscious terrorists' wrists with plastic riot cuffs. He gagged the four vanquished opponents and used their own belts to bind their ankles.

  "Think we should drag these guys into the bushes to hide them?" Manning inquired.

  "No need really," Katz replied. "I don't think anyone else is heading in this direction right now. If they do, they'll probably hear these fellows rustling about anyway."

  "I wonder why these clowns were trotting around this area by themselves," the Canadian remarked. "They didn't seem to be searching for us, so they weren't on patrol. Unless they were on a double date and decided to take a moonlight stroll, I figure they must have been heading toward some destination."

  "They might have been on their way to the Vatican Radio Station," Katz said with a nod. "Possibly to relieve guards there and take the next shift. A logical theory, but we can't be sure it's accurate. Better not plan our strategy based on that notion."

  "Guess we'll just have to see the setup at the station and decide how to handle it then," Manning commented. "Well," Katz began, gazing at the metal steeple of the radio tower above the trees. "We won't have far to go."

  The Vatican Radio Station was located in a clearing. The building was three stories high with numerous windows and a roof wide enough for a helipad. The station had originally been built in 1929, but alterations had been made to keep up with the changes and advancements in technology. Vatican Radio was a modern establishment, yet the building still vaguely resembled a church. It seemed that every effort was taken to keep all forms of communication on a spiritual level.

  There was nothing inspirational about the armed Iranians posted by the station. Men with assault rifles patrolled the area. Other figures were visible behind the windows of the well-lit building. The Phoenix Force pair saw at least ten men, and the building was probably large enough to hold at least fifty more.

  Katz and Manning crept along the tree line surrounding the station. They looked for security devices such as motion detectors, surveillance cameras and laser scans. The terrorists had not used such contraptions elsewhere, and it seemed unlikely they would use extra precautions at the radio station, but the commandos did not take anything for granted.

  Neither man found any evidence of electr
onic surveillance equipment or detectors. Of course, they knew that some of the more sophisticated devices were all but invisible. Manning and Katz could not be certain that the terrorists were unaware of their presence. But nothing would be accomplished by worrying about it, and Katz and Manning had no intention of retreating from their objective.

  They circled the site to the rear of the radio station. Two sentries stood guard by a crude metal tower that was about three meters high. The frame had been constructed for a single practical purpose. Pipes and metal tubing sprawled near the rig. A huge drilling bit was among the equipment. Cables and pulleys were still attached to the tower, and a diesel engine was connected to the contraption.

  "Drilling rig," Manning whispered as he unslung his FAL rifle from his shoulder. "From the amount of pipes used, I'd say they tunneled down at least fifty meters beneath the surface."

  "Where's the tunnel?" Katz inquired softly, crouching behind the trunk of a cypress tree.

  "I'm looking for it," the Canadian replied. He peered through the Starlite viewer mounted on his FAL rifle. A radio antenna extended from a metal plate at the base of the drilling rig. "Jackpot."

  "You found it?" the Israeli asked eagerly.

  "Right where I figured it would be," Manning confirmed. "It has a radio-operated detonator. The explosives are probably buried pretty deep underground to make certain the blast would affect the beddings of the earth enough to cause a violent tremor in the fissures connected to the main fault."

  "Think you can deactivate it?" Katz asked.

  "The top plate is probably booby-trapped," the Canadian answered. "A pressure spring could trigger the explosion if someone tried to raise the lid. I could deactivate it if I could get under the plate. We could dig a hole near the plate and then reach inside with a pair of wire cutters to clip the connections to the explosives. It would be easy if we had a few minutes to spare."