Thicker Than Blood

by James P. Sumner

  Hopefully.

  I glanced through the papers we took, but there was nothing significant in there. A few financials, but it all looked legitimate, relating to The Sterling Group’s overseas holdings, or something. The real jackpot is going to be on that flash drive. It has to be—why else would they protect it so well? It must be good if Josh has been at it for an hour and hasn’t gotten anywhere.

  But, when you include killing Pierce, who coordinated The Order’s clean-up crew, we’ve dealt them some serious body blows in the last forty-eight hours, and that’s a big win for us. I know there’s still a long way to go, but we’re on the right track. The next step is to figure out exactly what their endgame is. We know they wanted to kill Josh, and ensure his replacement was one of their own, with the intention of using their guy to influence the National Security Council. I personally don’t see how that would work, but Sterling was confident, and I know enough about The Order to know that any issues I see with the plan probably won’t stop them.

  But then what?

  All this shit about God, and the Knights Templar has really thrown me a curveball. At no point did I expect religion to factor into a secret society of assassins, but I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time. Even so, it all creates more questions than answers. Answers that, right now, we don’t—

  “Got it!”

  I look over at Josh. “You in?”

  “Yeah, cracked the bastard. Right, let’s have a look…”

  I move behind him, looking over his shoulder at the screen as I lean on the back of his chair. He navigates the files quickly, scanning over the contents, quickly determining the relevance before moving on to the next. He can read things a lot faster than I can, and with time being a constant factor, I’m glad he’s here. Windows pop up and close down, documents open and close, images flash up… He’s working his way through the entire drive.

  He stops on a spreadsheet. “This looks interesting.”

  “What is it?”

  “It looks like… Shit, it is!”

  “What?”

  “It’s a bloody personnel list!”

  “Are you serious?”

  He scrolls down a few screens. “Yeah, this lists every asset The Order has, where they’re based, and which Horizon is looking after them. They literally give them numbers. Look.” He points to the screen. My name is listed beneath a sub-heading of Middle East. Next to it is a brief, but detailed biography, the number of kills I’ve completed for them, and Horizon 7.

  I frown. “Horizon 7? It makes him sound like a fucking space shuttle. No wonder he leaves off the number when he’s flapping his gums. Why would they even write this shit down?”

  Josh shrugs. “I’m guessing it’s not easy to keep track of. Someone’s got to manage the books, I suppose, and it certainly explains the level of encryption. What is worrying is this.” He points to a figure at the bottom of the screen. “That’s how many assassins they have working for them.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope. That number is how many cells are populated with names on this spreadsheet, which means, in total, they have close to fifteen thousand assets.”

  “Jesus… Okay, can you, like, filter it by location?”

  “Sure can.” A couple of taps on the keyboard and the list shortens. “There we go. They have nearly four thousand based in North America.”

  “Holy shit.”

  I take it back. The fourteen we killed earlier today probably wasn’t that big of a dent after all.

  He turns and looks up at me. “We have to assume they’re all coming for us, don’t we?”

  I nod slowly. “Uh-huh.”

  He sighs. “We might need some help.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Silence descends, and I zone out a little as the gravity of it all sinks in.

  “Hold up a second…”

  “Hmm? What is it?”

  “Look at this. I’ve unfiltered the list again and scrolled down to see if Sterling’s name is on here.”

  “And?”

  “It is. But it’s in a different color than the rest.”

  “To highlight he’s special?”

  “That’s what I thought, so I filtered the list again to only display names in that color. It found five.”

  I lean forward. “Are you saying you’ve found all five Committee members?”

  He nods. “I think so, yeah.”

  I look at the list of names. Each one is in a different continent. Sterling, we can ignore. Three of the remaining four mean nothing to me. But one of them, I recognize. I point to it. “Where do I know that name from?”

  Josh shrugs. “Dunno. Let me Google him, hang on…”

  I pace away for a moment, while he does his thing. I’m torn right now as to whether I should be glad, or worried that we’ve found this list.

  “Oh, shit.”

  I walk back over to Josh and lean forward again. “What? Who is he?”

  He silently points to the screen. I look at the image displayed there and read the paragraph of text beneath it.

  …

  …

  …

  I swallow hard. “Oh, shit.”

  My mind starts racing, picking up all the individual pieces of this puzzle, trying to connect them. Some things slot together, some things don’t. The things that don’t are at least starting to make some sense, even if I can’t see how they’re relevant just yet.

  Things Sterling said to us begin running through my head, over and over, until they too take their place in the giant jigsaw, helping to reveal that all-important big picture.

  But one thing’s for sure, if we weren’t convinced as to how screwed we were before… we are now.

  The image on the screen is of two men. Our guy is the one on the right. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the head of the Committee. The man in charge of The Order. He looks older than he is, but younger than the person he’s standing next to. The caption below explains who he is, and where he is in the photo.

  His name is Antonio Herrera Martinez. He’s the current camerlengo of the Catholic Church, and the man he’s standing next to is the pope.

  22

  17:37 PDT

  Josh gets to his feet, and moves over to one of the beds, sitting down heavily. I start pacing again, still fighting to put everything together.

  “I don’t understand…” he says, lying flat.

  I sigh. “I think I do. Martinez is the leader of The Order. Sterling said himself, their mission is God’s will, and their leader is incredibly well-protected.”

  He sits up again. “Yeah, but he also said he didn’t know where his leader was, and that he conferences in whenever the rest of the Committee meet.”

  “He had to have been lying. If he knew who he was, then it’s obvious there’s only one place he’s going to be. He was protecting his boss.”

  “But… Adrian… he’s basically the pope’s secretary!”

  “Which explains The Order’s vast resources. Doesn’t the camerlengo handle the Vatican’s finances? He’s probably cooking the books and filtering off whatever he needs to fund The Order’s missions.”

  Josh gets to his feet and stands in front of me. “But that’s not all he does…”

  He hurries over to the laptop, sits down in the chair, and starts typing urgently.

  I move next to him. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I’ve just figured out how The Order works.” He brings up the spreadsheet with all the assets listed on it. “See this date, next to the name? I noticed it before, but didn’t pay it much attention. I think that’s when each asset was recruited. It certainly matches with you. Now, if I’m right, what do you notice?”

  I look at the dates on the screen twice over and shrug. “Not much. They’re all pretty recent…”

  “Exactly. On this entire document, across all fifteen-or-so thousand assets, including the Committee, and all the Horizons, not one of them has been
a member of The Order for more than six years.”

  I frown. “That’s strange, given how long they’re meant to have been around.”

  “I know. Now, the current pope was elected three years ago, when the previous one died. What do you know about the election process?”

  I shrug. “Only what I’ve seen in the movies.”

  “Well, that’s probably pretty accurate. All the cardinals are locked away until they decide among themselves who should be the next pope. Until they make that decision, the camerlengo assumes control of the Catholic Church…”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, ol’ Antonio here has been camerlengo for… you guessed it… six years. He was appointed by the previous pope. Now, how’s this for a theory? He gets the new job, gains access to everything the position affords, and discovers The Order of Sabbah, hidden away in the Vatican archives. He sees an opportunity, and resurrects them, but they need funding. When the pope dies, he sees his chance, and while temporarily running the show, he uses his influence to somehow make sure the new pope is someone who won’t ask too many questions.”

  “So, you think the pope’s involved?”

  He shakes his head. “Probably not, but maybe he’s a little naïve. I remember reading about it in the paper, people saying it was a shock that he was elected over some of the other cardinals, who were favorites for the job. Maybe this is why?”

  I nod. “With someone who is easily manipulated in the big chair, Martinez would be free to syphon whatever funds he wants from the Vatican so he can finance The Order.”

  “And has likely been doing so ever since, allowing The Order’s reach and influence to grow to what it is today.”

  “So, all the talk from Horizon, and Sterling, about the all-powerful Order being around for centuries is just bullshit?”

  “Kinda. It’s probably true that it’s existed for centuries in some form, dating back to the Knights Templar, but it’s not necessarily been an active organization. Just something that used to be, that people still talk about. Probably how the ghost stories started for people like us—a bit of research online, and lots of Chinese whispers.”

  “So, they use the attractive-sounding history as their sales pitch?”

  “Maybe, yeah. If they recruit assassins, it explains how word of them began to travel around our circles.”

  “But what do they want? What are they working toward?”

  Josh shrugs. “No idea. There’s nothing on the flash drive detailing future missions or anything. But Martinez has taken an old idea from Catholic history, and turned it into the modern-day Freemasons, giving him a modicum of control over almost everything. He gets together with his Committee, and they figure out how to maintain control of what they have, and how to gain more of it, and then pass the message on to the Horizons, who use their assets to do whatever needs doing.”

  “If you’re right—and I see no reason to doubt the theory—then there’s no question it’s impressive. But we still have the full extent of their wrath on our asses, and we still don’t know what they’re planning next.”

  “Maybe not, but I reckon we have more than enough to take to Schultz. If we can work with the Vatican to expel Martinez, that might stop them in their tracks. We can then hand it all over to the FBI, and begin cleaning up all the business assets they have, maybe restore a sense of normality to everything.”

  I nod. “Okay. Make the call.”

  I move over to my bed, and pick up my jacket, which I throw on before heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” asks Josh.

  I glance back at him. “To make a call of my own.”

  18:22 PDT

  Mmm… Oh, my God, this burger is amazing! So, my phone call didn’t quite go as I expected. I asked someone to help us, and they declined, somewhat impolitely. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea, and it didn’t pan out, which pissed me off a little. Then I remembered I hadn’t eaten in almost a day, so I found a burger joint and ordered this bad boy. It’s a half-pound slab of beef, with melted cheese, bacon, lettuce, and tomato on top of it. I can feel my arteries clogging with each bite, but I honestly couldn’t be happier right now. Everything looks better on a full stomach. I even bought Josh one, although I can’t guarantee it’ll make it back to the hotel room.

  We’re finally making progress. We know The Order is embedded at the top of the Catholic Church. We also know the best-case scenario right now is that we only have four thousand assassins hunting us both down. That’s assuming they’re not being brought in from all over the world to ensure we’re taken out.

  The Order will go all-out to make sure I’m dead. As the one that got away, I now pose the single greatest threat to their existence. I know enough to expose them, and I’m good enough to survive long enough to do it.

  Now, we just need Schultz to do his part.

  I’m walking a long, indirect route back to the hotel. I’ve not seen anyone I think might be following me, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, right? Besides, it’s still nice outside. The sun’s just starting to drop, causing the temperature to do the same. The wind’s picking up, too, but it’s still borderline comfortable for me. Plus, it gives me time to eat my cheeseburger.

  I arrive back at the hotel after a half-hour round trip and make my way up to our suite. I open the door to the room, and see Josh gesturing wildly with one hand, holding his cell to his ear with the other.

  “Sir, you have to take this seriously. You have to act!”

  Huh. Doesn’t sound like it’s going well with Schultz, does it?

  I shut the door, and he looks over. “Hang on, Adrian’s just got back. Let me put you on speaker.”

  I walk over to him and hand him the bag of food as he sets the phone down on the desk. He gestures to it. “We’re on with the president.”

  I roll my eyes. “Hi, Ryan.”

  He sighs, causing a little distortion on the line. “Josh has just been telling me what you’ve found out about these sonsofbitches.”

  I nod. “And?”

  “And, I can’t get involved. I’m sorry.”

  Josh and I exchange a glance. I frown, and he shrugs with defeat.

  “You mind telling me why?”

  “Son, the fact you even need to ask me that is proof enough you’re not thinking straight.”

  I stroke my chin, feeling the coarse stubble grate on my palm. “All due respect, sir, but you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

  Josh steps forward and whispers, “Adrian, don’t…”

  On the line, Schultz scoffs. “Here we go again. Understand this, Adrian—there’s absolutely nothing stopping me sending a SWAT team to bring your ass in right now. I can put you in a hole for the rest of your days if I wanted to. You and Josh currently have the freedom to pursue this as a courtesy, out of respect for the things you’ve done for this country. But make no mistake, either of you… I can pull the plug on this in a heartbeat.”

  Josh holds his hand up to me, signaling for me to stay quiet. Which is probably for the best, all things considered. “Sir, you said if we got you sufficient evidence of a credible threat, you would help us.”

  “I know what I said, Josh. But what you’ve told me isn’t a credible threat, it’s a goddamn international incident waiting to happen! What do you want me to do? Send the First Battalion to knock on the Vatican’s front door to subdue the pope? Vatican City is its own country, and we can’t get involved in another nation’s domestic issues.”

  I slam my fist down on the desk beside the phone. “That’s bullshit, Ryan!”

  “Adrian, I swear to God, you better watch your tongue.”

  “You say you can’t get involved… Explain Iraq. Explain Afghanistan. Explain North Korea. There was no issue with our government getting involved then, was there?”

  “That’s because they were genuine threats to the rest of the world, and it’s our responsibility to—”

  “And how is this not a genuine threat
? Jesus, Ryan, two months ago, North Korea invaded our fucking country! Yeah, it was a half-assed attempt, and there were mitigating circumstances behind it, but after Josh’s boys pushed them back, what did you do? You sent troops into their country to keep them in check, while the rest of us tried to rebuild our lives.”

  “And that was justifiable. A necessary precaution.”

  “So is this! We have proof that the leader of The Order has influence over the Catholic Church. Hell, if the pope dies, their leader will run the Catholic Church! His resources are near-unlimited as a result, and he authorizes the assassination of anyone he deems necessary, without just cause or provocation. Josh is a target. Who’s to say their next target won’t be you? Or another foreign leader? Who’s to say their actions won’t trigger more international crises? That might be exactly what they want to do. You have to pre-empt this, Ryan. We know who he is, and we know how he works. You have to stay one step ahead of these bastards and buy us time to shut them down permanently.”

  “Adrian, Josh has spent the last twenty minutes pleading the same case, and I’ll say to you what I’ve already told him. I can’t march into another country with nothing more than a theory and overthrow the head of state.”

  I close my eyes briefly. I know, I know… he’s right. Obviously. But that doesn’t change the fact we’re right, too.

  I’ll keep trying.

  “Ryan, it’s not just a theory. We have proof…”

  “No, you don’t. The camerlengo’s name is on a spreadsheet you found in a dead guy’s office. That doesn’t prove anything. I’m not saying your theory isn’t sound—it’s perfectly plausible, and given what we know, and what you’ve told me, you’re probably right. But that doesn’t change the fact that what you have is circumstantial at best. I said if I was to help you, it would be in an official capacity, above board. There are next-to-no official channels with which to approach the Vatican about this, and the Swiss Guard are unlikely to want anyone interfering in their affairs, especially now.”

  I frown. “What do you mean, especially now? What’s happening?”