The Last Sicarius

by Van R. Mayhall Jr.

  Cloe hoped the Karik’s men had not been watching through the peephole in the door. They would have seen the kiss. From the men’s reaction to her claim, or lack thereof, they apparently had not.

  The Karik studied her closely, but she did not blink. She had been studied by his better, the Kolektor.

  “You lie, I think,” said the man uncertainly, his hand shaking again. “But no matter. I have plans for you and your colleague. Put on some clothes that are suitable for travel.”

  “Oh, and what might your plans be?” asked Cloe.

  “This lucky accident of finding you here has saved me a great deal of bother,” replied the Karik. “My plan had been to find one of the Sicarii and persuade her to tell me where the contents of the cave have been taken. If the first could not be persuaded, then perhaps the second or the tenth.”

  Cloe looked at him silently. Her anger rose as she thought of the poor Sicarii he would hurt and destroy in his lust for power.

  “But here you are,” continued the Karik, “associate of the Sicarii. Perhaps you can be convinced to tell me where the jars have been taken.”

  “I don’t know,” said Cloe. “But if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “You are so brave and strong and, certainly, game. You proved that tonight,” countered the Karik, gazing directly at Cloe. “But I think you do know, and I know you will tell me everything.”

  CHAPTER 70

  J.E. wandered into the gaily lit restaurant for breakfast. He looked around, blinked several times, and realized his eyes burned. His mouth was also very dry. It was midmorning and very late by his standards, but last night’s celebration of their safe return to Tunis had caused him to sleep in. Still, he had a job to do, and he would do it.

  “Good morning,” said the monsignor, smiling. “J.E., you look like you could use a little more sleep.”

  J.E. yawned and said simply, “Yes.”

  Father Sergio joined them in the booth.

  The waitress approached, and J.E. could say only one word. “Coffee.”

  “Make it two,” said the equally sleepy camerlengo.

  “J.E., where’s your mother?” asked the monsignor. “She should have been here by now.”

  “I don’t know. She and Miguel were still dancing when we all said good night.”

  Coffee was served and swilled down. Father Sergio began to perk up and looked hard at the monsignor, as if he was remembering something.

  “Albert, this is not like Cloe,” said Father Sergio. “She has overslept before, but usually, by this time we would have heard something from her.”

  Now J.E. looked up, his headache, dry mouth, and burning eyes forgotten. “I’ll call her right now,” he said, heading for the house phone.

  He dialed her room number several times, always ending up with the hotel voice-mail system. He tried another number without any success. He shook his head, slammed the phone down, and turned back to the table.

  “I’m headed to her room,” J.E. told the others. “There is no answer in her room or Miguel’s.”

  Worried, the monsignor threw some bills on the table and said, “Then we are all going with you.”

  A few minutes later, J.E. and the others stood outside Cloe’s room tapping and then banging on the door. Heads were beginning to appear in doorways down the hall.

  “Nothing,” said Father Sergio. “What do we do?”

  “Perhaps we can get a maid or someone to let us in,” replied the monsignor.

  J.E. knelt down in front of the door lock and gazed at it for a long moment. “Ha,” he mumbled without explanation.

  He took his wallet out and drew a small pick-like tool from it. He fiddled with the lock for a few seconds, and then they were in.

  The three men strode into the room. The place was a wreck. Clearly, some kind of brawl had taken place. There were splashes of blood amid overturned chairs. “What in the world?” queried the camerlengo. “What happened here?”

  “J.E., please go check out Miguel’s room,” said the monsignor. “We’ll wait here.”

  Five minutes later, J.E. was back. “His room has not been used at all,” said J.E. “His stuff is there, but no sign anyone slept there last night. Whatever went on, it happened here.”

  “All your mother’s things seem to be here,” said the monsignor.

  “Wait a minute,” said J.E. from the bedroom. “Here’s the dress she had on last night. She changed clothes for some reason. Her cosmetics are all here. She would not have voluntarily left these things.”

  “But why?” asked Father Sergio. “Why would she change?”

  “So she could travel?” asked the monsignor.

  “She has been taken,” surmised J.E., stressed and analytical at the same time.

  “Taken?” whispered Father Sergio. “As in kidnapped?”

  “Wait—maybe Miguel and Cloe are still out somewhere, having a good time,” responded the monsignor.

  “Maybe …” said J.E. “But if so, what happened to the room? What about the blood? What about the dress?”

  J.E. began to study the room very carefully. He walked back and forth and then saw something in the foyer. He bent over and picked up a reddish object. He held it up for the others to see. The room was deadly quiet. Gazing at the object, he said, “Mom never would have left this behind except as a message to us.”

  The others looked and saw, without doubt, the old night-vision lens from Thib’s flashlight that Cloe had found in the cave. This was the very thing that had convinced everyone that it actually was Thib’s chamber in the cavern. Cloe had taken it from the cave and would not part with it.

  “There’s only one person with the resources and the motivation to take Cloe and Miguel,” said the monsignor. “It has to be the Karik.”

  “But all our intel said he had not returned to Tunis,” said Father Sergio.

  “Yes, but that was earlier,” responded J.E. “Suppose he came in after us. He must have driven from El Guettar.”

  “The young sir must be correct,” replied the monsignor. “We flew back and were here before him. Thus, our intel failed because of the timing.”

  “All right, now what?” asked the camerlengo. “Do we go to the police?”

  Just then the phone in the suite rang, jostling everyone’s nerves. They all looked at the ringing phone as if it were a coiled, poisonous snake.

  Finally, J.E. edged forward and picked up the receiver. He put it to his ear but said nothing. The phone popped and crackled, but no one spoke on the other end. J.E. looked at his mates and then back at the phone before asking angrily, “What the hell do you want?”

  CHAPTER 71

  “We’ll get to what I want,” said the Karik. “You may be interested in what I already have.”

  There was a pause on the line, but from the sounds it was clear the phone was being shifted around.

  “J.E.?” said Cloe with a steady voice. “I’m fine. Michael’s fine, but has a head wound from a gun butt. Just remember, we can take care of ourselves, and I love you.”

  “Mom …” said J.E. But before he could say more, he heard the sound of the phone being snatched from his mother and returned to the Karik. There was something else as well, though. J.E. thought the racket sounded like an aircraft in flight.

  “Your mother is fine and will remain so as long as you and she do what I want,” said the Karik.

  “You are a lying, no-good lowlife. Stealing a woman—where’s the honor in that?” responded J.E.

  The line was quiet for a moment, but J.E. knew the Karik was still there. He could feel his presence. He could now also hear the muffled sound of jet engines. The Karik had made a mistake.

  “Your insults will only further injure your mother when her time comes,” said the Karik. “The best thing in her future was going to be a quick, merciful death. But you have condemned her to a long, suffering passing.”

  J.E. gripped the phone in a crushing grasp as the monsignor and Father Sergio anxiously looked
on. He spoke directly but calmly into the mouthpiece. “Karik, the best thing for your future would be to release my mother and Miguel immediately. This would extend your life expectancy considerably. If you fail to do so, you will have forfeited your miserable existence.”

  “Bold threats from a powerless child,” replied the Karik. “Hear this: You will not contact the authorities, or your mother will die. You will not seek to follow us, or your mother will die. You will return to the United States, or your mother will die. Have I been heard?”

  J.E. was silent for a moment and then said, “Until we meet again, Karik.” He hung up the phone and then looked at the monsignor and Father Sergio.

  “How could you hang up on him like that, J.E.?” questioned the camerlengo. “Your mother’s life is at risk!”

  “I don’t think so, at least not immediately,” said the monsignor.

  “That’s right,” said J.E. “I would never risk Mom’s life—or Miguel’s, for that matter. But the Karik took them for a reason. Until his goal is satisfied, she will not be killed.”

  “Well … okay, why did he take them?” asked Father Sergio.

  “As you know, we surmised the Karik’s strategy would be to seek out the Sicarii and torture one of them to reveal the location of the jars,” said the monsignor. “I believe he learned we were in Tunis and decided to short-cut his efforts.”

  “What are you saying?” continued the camerlengo. “He thinks Cloe knows where the jars have been secured?”

  “Yes,” said J.E., struggling. “He thinks she knows. He knows of her connection to the Sicarii from Hakeldama. He might torture her, but more likely, he will torture Miguel until she tells him where the jars are. If Mom knows anything, she’s a lot more likely to talk if Miguel is tortured than if she is. She’s tough, and the Karik may sense that Miguel is special to her. But he will not kill her intentionally until he’s satisfied he knows everything she knows.”

  “Horrible!” asserted Father Sergio.

  “We have a little time,” said J.E., his shoulders slumping.

  “I agree with J.E.,” said the monsignor. “But the more important question is … does she know?”

  “How could she know where they are?” queried Father Sergio. “Only the Sicarii know.”

  J.E. and the monsignor only looked at him.

  “Oh my God,” Father Sergio whispered, everything crashing down on him. “She’s one of them.”

  “Cloe identifies with the Sicarii,” said the monsignor. “They are sisters. They saved her life and J.E.’s. Is it farfetched to believe that the Sicarii would feel similarly, that they would trust her with their secrets?”

  “When you put it like that, no … it isn’t,” the camerlengo replied. “So what do we do?”

  “Well, we need to figure out where they are going,” said J.E. “We need someone who can track an airplane in the air. I’m almost certain the background noise was that of a jet in flight.”

  “Agreed,” said the monsignor. “This requires the services of an airman extraordinaire.”

  They all looked at each other and said with almost one voice, “Sky!”

  ***

  While J.E. went to find and coordinate with Miguel’s pilot, Sky, the monsignor left to go to the hospital to check on Father Anton and the Swiss, who had been injured in the plane crash. When he arrived, he learned that Father Anton and all but one of the Swiss had been discharged from the hospital. Tracking them to their rooms in one of the hotels close to the hospital, the monsignor climbed the stairs to the second-floor room of Father Anton.

  He knocked on the door and said, “Tony?”

  Heavy footsteps approached from the other side of the door, which opened promptly.

  “Hello, Albert,” said Father Anton. “Where in the world have you been?”

  “Tony, it’s a long story. How are you?” asked the monsignor, examining his colleague.

  “Come in and sit down,” said Father Anton.

  The monsignor watched as Father Anton sat. He seemed to be slow, without energy. What had happened to the man’s spirit? the monsignor wondered.

  “Albert, the hospital was difficult, and the loss of the other men …” Father Anton faltered.

  “Yes, Tony,” said the monsignor. “I understand completely. You did everything that could be done.”

  They sat in silence for a bit.

  “But, Tony, our mission is ongoing,” said the monsignor. “We have survived yet another deadly contact with the Karik, but Dr. Lejeune has been kidnapped. We have much to do.”

  The monsignor watched as his friend reached deep and summoned what strength he had left.

  “Okay, Albert, where do we start?” asked Father Anton, straightening his shoulders.

  PART III

  THE PLACE OF THE SKULL

  They then took charge of Jesus, and carrying his own cross he went out of the city to the place of the skull or, as it was called in Hebrew, Golgotha where they crucified him … The place where Jesus was crucified was not far from the city …

  —John 19:17–18, 20 (The Jerusalem Bible, 1966)

  At the place where he had been crucified there was a garden, and in this garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been buried. Since it was the Jewish Day of Preparation and the tomb was near at hand, they laid Jesus there.

  —John 19:41–42 (The Jerusalem Bible, 1966)

  CHAPTER 72

  An hour after the monsignor had found Father Anton and the surviving Swiss Guards, they were all gathered at the Les Burges Hotel. The monsignor looked around at the assembled group. J.E., Father Sergio, Father Anton, and Sky stared back at him. There were also four Swiss, Tomás, and his four surviving men. Not a bad team, the monsignor thought.

  “Do you have news?” asked Tomás.

  “Yes,” said the monsignor. “Your boss has been captured by the Karik, as has Dr. Lejeune.” He related the telephone call to them.

  “So what will you do?” asked Tomás. “Are you going back to the States?”

  J.E. stepped up and said, “No, we intend to find and rid the world of this toad who calls himself the Karik and get my mother and Miguel back safely.”

  There was only silence among the embattled and wounded men.

  “I know you men have suffered greatly and have been wounded,” said J.E. “But we fight for what is right. If the Karik finds the jars, he will pervert their meaning. He will use them to attack the Church. Now, he has my mother and your boss. They are dead unless we can find them.”

  While this hung in the air, the monsignor joined J.E. in studying the men to determine their able-bodied status. There were lots of healing cuts and bruises. The main physical injuries these men had incurred were inhalation and exposure injuries. The larger damage was internal. Still, they seemed to be game. Each had tuned up as well as he could with a trim, a shave, and fresh clothes. No one had any weapons.

  “J.E., my men and I are in this to the finish,” said Tomás. “We will find the boss.”

  Father Anton spoke for himself and the Swiss. “We may look like refugees from a hospital emergency department, but we are ready. We too will see this to the end.”

  The monsignor could see there was color back in the face of Father Anton. Gone were the low-energy, defeated look and motions. His eyes were clear, having refocused on his duties.

  “So be it then,” said J.E. “What do we know?”

  Tomás turned to Sky, who said, “The Karik’s jet was wheels up this morning about ten o’clock from the general aviation depot of the Tunis airport. My sources tell me a flight plan was filed, but shortly after takeoff, the plane dropped below radar, and its location and direction are unknown. This is not unusual in this part of the world.”

  “I have been in touch with the Vatican ops center,” said Father Anton, “and they report the airplane was headed east at its last observation. The monks who run the center are studying what is known about the Karik to try to determine his tendencies and whether there are any identi
fiable places where he may go to ground. I’m sorry to say he will need time and privacy to work on Cloe and Miguel to get what he wants.”

  “Yes, he will go somewhere where he feels safe and can take his time,” agreed the monsignor. “Tony, we need the best efforts of Father Emilio and the monks he leads. We need some intel, and we need it now.”

  “Okay, we are going to triangulate this thing for information purposes,” said J.E. “I still have friends in intelligence who are deployed throughout the Mediterranean. I will put out an alert to them. Sky, get with your buddies in the commercial and private flying businesses. There must be thousands of private and commercial planes in the air in this area at any given time. We know the tail number of the Karik’s plane from the flight plan. Your contacts can be our eyes. Finally, Monsignor and Father Anton, please coordinate with the Vatican on what they learn.”

  “A sound plan, J.E.,” said the monsignor.

  “Tomás, what resources do we have?” asked J.E.

  “Well, we have the boss’s jet, which is big enough to carry all of us,” said Tomás. “Beyond that, we have only the backpacks, mainly with some camping gear, that we were able to carry out of the cave-in.”

  “I can get us another jet,” said Sky. “Rentals are available at the airport. But we have no pilot.”

  Father Anton looked up and said, “I’m certified as a pilot. It goes with the territory.”

  “With two planes, we could cover a lot more territory since we could follow multiple leads that might take us to more than one place,” observed the monsignor.

  “Okay, Sky, you and Father Anton get the second plane. The rest of us, gather up what gear we do have and run your intel traps. You have four hours,” said J.E. “In four hours, we will be wheels up, going somewhere to find my mother and Miguel.”

  CHAPTER 73

  The Karik sat across from Cloe and Miguel in the executive jet high above the Mediterranean Sea. Two of his thugs stood nearby, weapons at the ready. Though some of the Karik’s men were refreshing themselves, neither Cloe nor Michael had been offered food or drink. The Karik had been mostly quiet.