A Sacred Storm

by Dominic C. James

  “I can see why,” said Sophia. “Although I thought he would have been honoured to give you a bottle – even a case.”

  “Perhaps,” said Christiano. “But I don’t like to take advantage. It’s not why I’m here.”

  “Of course not,” said Sophia. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

  “I know you didn’t, and there is no need to explain yourself to me. You can say anything you like.” He smiled at her and then looked away shyly.

  After some antipasti of olives, cheese and bread, the waiter brought in beluga caviar and toast. Christiano opened a bottle of Cristal and poured a glass for Sophia.

  “Are you not going to have any?” she asked.

  “No, not tonight,” he said. “We have to be away early in the morning. And besides I am not a great drinker, a glass of wine will be enough for me.”

  Sophia layered some caviar onto her toast and took a bite, washing it down with some champagne. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble you know,” she said. “I would have been happy with a carbonara and some bread. This all seems a bit grand.”

  “I just wanted to spoil you.”

  Sophia took his hand. “I think you’ve spoilt me enough already. You’ve given me the greatest gift that anyone could. I don’t think you realize how much it means for me just to be able to walk again. All this stuff,” she gestured to the food and drink on the table, “it means nothing really. It looks lovely and tastes divine, but it’s just show. I might come from a very rich family, but I haven’t been brought up to worship money or anything it buys. I like being with you because you give me something that money can’t buy.”

  “I know,” said Christiano. “But I wanted to make this special for you, as a man should for a woman. I wanted to make it romantic. I am flesh and blood just like everyone else you know. I may have amazing powers, but I am still only a man.”

  “You’re not just a man,” she said. “You’re the Messiah. But it’s very flattering that you still want to impress me. I shall enjoy the meal in the spirit that is meant and try to forget who you are.”

  “Like I said, I am just a man.”

  After a main course of sea bass and a dessert of panna cotta they left the table and sat down in the living area. Sophia watched Christiano as he poured the coffees, and felt warm in her heart. She still couldn’t quite believe what was happening, and regularly had to take a step back and think about the situation logically. Ever since the day she met him her life had been a blur. One minute she was a lonely soul confined to a wheelchair, and the next she was running about in ecstasy, her heart exploding with hope. The miracle of movement had been enough to cope with, but the arrival of the Messiah had been something else.

  And yet for all his divine qualities, there was something incredibly human about him. When they saw each other or chatted online the conversation was very rarely about God and humanity, it mainly revolved around mundane things like music and film and television, or sport and hobbies. It was really just like a regular friendship. Of course, it was slightly more than a friendship, there was no denying it. Even when she had first seen him, before she knew who or what he was, she had been instantly attracted to him. It wasn’t just his dark good looks, or his deep brown eyes, that had moved her, it was also his shyness and vulnerability. He had seemed very much like a boy masquerading in a man’s body, and even knowing what she did now he still had the innocence that brought out her protective instinct. Part of her wished that he wasn’t the Son of God.

  “I wish you could come with me,” said Christiano, gazing at her over the top of his coffee cup.

  “I wish I could too,” she said. “But you’re going to be really busy, and I guess I’d just get in the way.”

  “You could never be in the way. It’s just that Cardinal Vittori feels that I would be better off without any distractions. I don’t think you are a distraction, I think you are good for me. You help me to relax. You help me to think straight. You treat me like a normal person.”

  “Because that’s how I see you most of the time. Sometimes it’s a bit weird of course – when I think about it, and when I see you on the television – but generally you’re just Christiano.”

  “And that is who I am at heart, who I feel like. I am not this Messiah that people see.”

  “But you are,” she said. “You are him as well.”

  Christiano hung his head. “Am I?” he said. “Am I really? I can certainly heal people, but is that enough? I don’t have any real answers. I cannot tell them what is right and what is wrong. It’s like they expect me to lay God’s laws down for them, and I really don’t think I can.”

  “But surely God must talk to you,” she said. “He must tell you what his purpose is.”

  Christiano looked into her eyes and desperately wanted to tell her the truth, but the voice of Vittori and the position of the Church suddenly came back to him and he realized that he was saying too much. “It is not as simple as that. Even I do not know the whole picture or his ultimate intention. He speaks to me in many ways, but it is not even for the Son to know the Father’s mind wholly. I am but one extension of his will.” He sipped at his coffee, secretly pleased with his ambiguous explanation.

  Sophia nodded as if understanding. “Does he speak to you all the time?”

  “No,” said Christiano shaking his head. “But he is with me all the time. As he is with you and the rest of humanity. He only talks to me when the need arises.”

  “Has he spoken about me? What does he think about me?”

  Christiano smiled. “He thinks you are the most beautiful thing he ever created.” He paused and looked at her. “And so does his son.”

  Sophia blushed and looked away. “You’re teasing me.”

  “No, I am not. If you could see the world through my eyes then you would know that I’m not.” He reached out and caressed her cheek, the warmth of his hand making her shudder.

  She turned back and stared into his eyes, feeling an irresistible urge to draw his lips to her own. They held each other’s gaze briefly before moving together for a tentative kiss. Sophia felt her whole body tingle. The kiss grew more passionate until its intensity forced her to pull away.

  “Are you okay?” asked Christiano. “I am sorry if I have offended you.”

  Sophia smiled and shook her head. “No, you haven’t offended me at all. It was beautiful.” She felt herself starting to cry. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  The embrace continued, neither of them wanting to let go.

  “I really want you to come with me,” said Christiano.

  “I know,” she said. “And I really want to come too.”

  They pulled apart and gazed at each other once more.

  “Perhaps you should have another word with Cardinal Vittori,” said Sophia, clutching his hand.

  “I could do,” said Christiano. “But I think his mind is made up. I’ve tried everything in my power to persuade him, but he just won’t budge.”

  “You don’t have to do everything he says do you? I mean, who exactly is the Messiah here?”

  Christiano thought for a moment, debating how to phrase his answer. “I am the Messiah,” he said. “But I am here to serve, not to command. Cardinal Vittori has guided me well so far and I must trust in his judgement. There is a lot more at stake here than our feelings alone. I think we must respect his decision, however hard it might be.”

  Sophia kissed him. “You’re right of course,” she said. “I was just being selfish. There is a whole world out there that needs you. And we can still keep in touch can’t we?”

  “Of course we can. Every day. And it will not be long before I am back. And who knows, if things go well Vittori might relent and you will be able to join me.” He smiled at her and she kissed him once more.

  Savouring the touch and taste of her lips he wished that the moment would never end. But he knew that it had to. He also knew it was down to Vittori. Sophia’s words started ringing in hi
s ears. In a way she was right – who exactly was the Messiah here?

  Chapter 57

  Stella and Jennings went back inside the suite and joined Grady and the operator, who were in front of the screen scrutinizing a detailed map of Rome. The red dot indicating Kandinsky had left the Vatican and was on the move straight down the Via della Conciliazone.

  “Is he in a car or is he walking?” asked Jennings.

  “It is difficult to tell,” said the operator. “He is moving slowly, but it may just be the traffic.” He studied the screen for another thirty seconds. “The movement is very staccato, so I would suggest he is in a vehicle.”

  After a while the dot gathered pace and turned left, following the river and finding its way onto the Lungotevere dei Mellini.

  Jennings watched the map intently and said, “He could be coming back here I guess. He’s headed in the right direction.”

  “Perhaps,” said Grady. He paused and then pointed. “No, look – he’s missed the bridge, they’ve gone straight on to Michelangelo.”

  Jennings saw that Grady was right and resigned himself to the fact that Kandinsky was headed elsewhere. The dot moved onwards up the river road passing bridge after bridge, each one taking it further away from the Villa Borghese.

  “Shouldn’t we get out there and start to follow him?” said Stella.

  “Let’s just wait a bit,” said Grady. “See how it pans out. He’s not that far away yet. Only a couple of miles. If they start to head out of the city then we’ll have to do something. There’s no point tailing them and making them suspicious. We know exactly where he is. Nobody’s getting away.”

  The dot eventually ground to a halt on the Lungotevere della Vittoria. From there it moved into a mass of trees by the river. After that it remained motionless.

  “Right then,” said Grady. “I’m guessing that’s where he’s going to stay. I don’t like it though, it’s too secluded. Ideal place to bury somebody.”

  “Or chuck them in the river,” said Stella.

  “Exactly,” Grady agreed.

  “Well,” said Jennings, “there’s only one way to find out isn’t there? What are we waiting for?”

  Grady put his hand on the computer operator’s shoulder. “Okay then, buddy,” he said. “What have we got in the way of men and firepower?”

  “We’ve got the two guys outside the door, and I can probably get four more from the submarine up here, but that will take maybe a couple of hours. As far as weapons are concerned – I’ve got some handguns in the box and a couple of tranquilizer pistols.”

  “What sort of handguns?”

  “Browning 9mm.”

  “They’ll do.”

  “Excuse me,” said Jennings. “But aren’t you forgetting something, Grady?”

  “What’s that?”

  “The fact that we’re not supposed to be killing anybody.”

  Grady raised an eyebrow. “If you think I’m going on another rescue mission armed solely with those dart-guns then think again. This time we’re going to use proper weaponry. If people get shot then so be it.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I nearly got killed last time and that was only escaping. This time we’re on the attack and we need guns.”

  “Fair enough,” said Jennings. “You carry one if you like. I’m sticking with the tranquilizers. I made a promise to Stratton and I’m going to keep it.”

  “That promise won’t be worth shit if you’re both dead,” muttered Grady. “Anyway, let’s get on. We can’t afford to wait for back up, so it’ll just be the three of us. We’ll leave the door guards where they are to protect our man here.” He gestured to the operator. “Have you got any more transmitters?” he asked. The operator nodded. “Right then, we’ll each have one.”

  “What? Under the skin?” said Jennings.

  “Yes, under the skin. We don’t know what’s going to happen, do we?”

  Grady phoned reception and arranged to borrow one of the hotel’s fleet of cars. Jennings and Stella had their transmitters injected, a little put out and taken aback, but secretly pleased that Grady had taken charge of the situation.

  “Okay then,” said Grady, rubbing his arm after the implant. “Let’s get going.” He turned to the operator. “Get those four guys from the submarine up here, and keep an eye on us. If you don’t hear from us before they arrive then send reinforcements.”

  They left the suite and headed down the corridor to the lift, Grady in front flanked by Stella and Jennings. Stella tapped the dart-gun in her jacket and felt the adrenalin starting to pump. She was back in the field and, despite the danger, enjoying it. Jennings cleared his mind and focused on the job ahead.

  They stepped into the lift and asked the boy to take them to the parking level. Outside, a few rooms down, two men in suits watched the doors slide shut and nodded to each other.

  Grady acquired a set of keys from the parking attendant and led his team through the underground garage to the complimentary vehicle. It was quiet and their footsteps echoed off the concrete, bouncing around the featureless white walls. Jennings began to get edgy, his senses telling him to stay alert.

  “What’s wrong with you?” asked Stella. “We haven’t even got to the car yet.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. This place is a little spooky that’s all.” He stopped and took a good look around.

  Stella shrugged and carried on after Grady.

  Although he could see nothing Jennings’ sense of unease continued to grow, his head darting from side to side as he walked. The other two were now about ten yards ahead with the gap increasing all the time. He heard a noise behind him and spun round. He looked down the row of cars, but there was no sign of movement.

  “Come on, jumpy boy,” shouted Grady. “Stop fucking about and get a move on.”

  Jennings took one last look behind. Perhaps he was being paranoid. Maybe there was nothing there. He sighed and turned back to follow his friends.

  The car was a black Lexus. Grady unlocked it with the key fob and went to the driver’s door. Stella bagged ‘shotgun’ and Jennings was left with the backseat, which didn’t bother him too much as it gave him plenty of room in which to sprawl out.

  Grady started the car swiftly and was moving before Jennings had a chance to shut the back door. “Hold on there Lewis fucking Hamilton!” he shouted.

  Grady ignored the comment and sped off between the rows of cars.

  They had only gone twenty yards when there was a bang and then a loud pop from the front right tyre. Grady fought with the steering wheel, but the explosion had happened so quickly and unexpectedly that he couldn’t regain control. With the car still accelerating they spun and went sidelong into a concrete pillar. Jennings, who hadn’t bothered with a seatbelt, was flung sideways hard towards the door, his head and shoulders crashing against the window. Stella was thrown towards Grady who hit the driver’s door hard. Their airbags failed to deploy.

  “Fuck!” yelled Grady, reorienting himself. “What the fuck was that?”

  Before Stella or Jennings could answer there was a tap at the passenger window. Stella looked across to see a gun pointing directly at her head.

  “Hands where I can see them,” said a voice from outside.

  Stella raised her arms just enough to satisfy the request. Grady weighed up his options and thought about reaching for his weapon. Although this idea was quickly set aside when a second gunman appeared at his own window.

  “Right then,” said the voice. “Everybody out of the car. And no sudden movements.”

  Jennings opened the back door and stepped out onto the concrete. He looked up to face the gunman and froze. It was his former colleague, Bob Davis.

  “Hello, Jennings. How very nice to see you. I knew we’d get you sooner or later.”

  “Davis! You fucking slime!”

  “There’s no need to be like that is there.”

  Jennings looked across to Grady who was standing against the car with his hands o
n the roof. He saw the man behind him and shook his head. “And Stone as well,” he said. “You don’t get one without the other.”

  “You know these clowns?” said Grady.

  “I certainly do. They’re the bastards who framed me for Appleby’s murder. Although what the hell they’re doing here…”

  “That’s enough chatter,” said Davis. He walked forward and carefully patted Jennings down, finding his gun easily. He eyed it curiously. “What the fuck is this?”

  “A tranquilizer gun,” said Jennings.

  “Ooh, very nice. A bit girly for my line of work though.”

  Stone and Davis confiscated their weapons and marched them through the car park, heading towards the poorly lit back corner. Jennings didn’t need any magical premonitions to tell him what was coming next. He looked back to see if the attendant had become curious about the noise yet.

  “There’s nobody coming mate,” said Davis, reading Jennings’ mind. “He’s having a nice little sleep.”

  Before any of them had time to think they were lined up against the wall in a darkened recess.

  “Don’t do this, Bob,” said Jennings. “You don’t know what’s at stake here.”

  “He’s right,” said Grady. “And we can get you money. Lot’s of it.” Money, he thought, the big persuader.

  “Save your breath,” said Davis. “Your time’s run out.”

  Jennings looked across to Stone. “Come on, Andy,” he pleaded. “Don’t do this.”

  Stone didn’t flicker. “I’m sorry Jennings,” he said, and raised his gun.

  Chapter 58

  Stratton watched in amusement as the two Swiss Guards attempted to lift Kandinsky off the trolley and onto the chair. Eventually, after several comic tries, they enlisted the help of the two burly suits, who were unimpressed at having to leave their card game. Between the four of them, huffing and puffing, they lowered the Russian’s enormous frame into place and tied him fast. The Swiss Guard departed and left the captives in the hands of Jonathan Ayres’ henchmen.

  “Another one down,” Stratton said to Cronin.