The only thing left to do now is empty the place, which is where Ruby comes in. This is the trickiest part, which is why we’ve intentionally left it so close to show time. We want everyone out so I can work, but if we do it too soon, we allow more time for word to reach the Vatican, and risk the mass being postponed. It also opens things up to the possibility of The Order learning where we are, and trapping us inside.
We walk toward the entrance, which consists of two thick, wooden doors adorned with large, metal rivets, standing open with a security guard stationed on either side. We pass through anonymously, part of the larger crowd shuffling through the outer wall of the castle, and into the courtyard, which is nothing more than a narrow alley running around the outside of the castle itself.
There’s another door ahead, with a ticket booth just inside on the right. There’s a handful of people in front of us in the line, and the same behind. I check my watch again. Not long to go. I look at Ruby, who’s staring straight ahead, her game face on.
We inch closer to the booth. Once we’re inside, we just need to—
Uh-oh.
I close my eyes and whisper, “Shit…”
“What is it?” asks Ruby.
I turn to her. “Security are checking bags.”
She sighs. “Shit.”
I think about it for a moment and then shrug. “Well, at least this means we don’t have to pay the entrance fee now.”
She rolls her eyes and smiles. “Every cloud, right?”
I nod. “Be ready, and remember—we want noise, not casualties.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
We’re next in line. I have a clear view inside now. There’s a small walkway formed by two rope lines heading away from the booth, which opens out into the main reception area of the castle. Straight ahead leads farther into the castle itself, while each side features a curving staircase leading up to the galleries, and, presumably, the roof.
It’s busy down here, but it’s not crammed—there’s still room to move.
We step forward and draw level with the booth. The woman inside it speaks to Ruby, initially in Italian, but then again in English, asking her how many tickets she wants. One of the two security guards standing on the left steps in front of me points to my extra-large briefcase. “We need to check inside your bags, signore.”
The other moves in front of Ruby. “You too, signora.”
We exchange a glance and nod.
Here we go.
Ruby unfastens her coat, brushing it around both legs, revealing her thigh holsters. The guard’s eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open. Before he can react, she steps forward, lashing her leg out and kicking him firmly in the gut. She draws both M9s as he keels over, aims one at the other security guard, and one at the woman in the booth.
Behind us, people start screaming and running back to the street. Inside, everyone is standing still, exchanging looks of confusion and disbelief. I step away to the side, trying not to look affiliated with her.
She nods to the woman in the booth. “You. Out here, now.” The woman complies, stepping out and around, moving in front of her. “I want you to stand by this door, and make sure no one else comes in, and that the people trying to get out do so quickly and safely. Do you understand? Ah… comprendere?”
The woman nods hurriedly.
“Good.” She steps forward, slamming the butt of her pistol in the second guard’s face, putting him on his ass. She raises the gun in the air and fires twice in quick succession. Screams quickly ring out around the castle. “Everybody out of here! Now!”
The sound of stampeding footsteps grows loud as the people inside merge together to form a herd, which then rushes for the doors. Ruby moves to the side, standing next to the booth, ushering everyone out.
That was easier than I thought.
I slip away, staying close to the left wall, and head for the steps. As I reach them, I quickly set the case down beside me, and reach inside my pocket for the comms unit. I put it in my ear and activate it before continuing my ascent. I stop halfway up and glance back over my shoulder at Ruby. We catch each other’s eye, and I gesture to my ear, signaling for her to put her comms unit in, too. She nods once, and I continue up the steps, taking them two at a time, trying to ignore the increasing discomfort in my leg as a result.
They wind up to the next floor, which leads to a balcony looking out across the main area below. I look down and see the back of the group of people all clamoring for the exit.
That’s good, they’re nearly all out already. Ruby’s done well.
I turn and head along the small corridor, which brings me to a circular space with a display case in the middle. Branching off to the right is a café. Straight ahead is the gift shop. I head left and through the door marked ACCESSO AL TETTO.
Roof access.
I climb the damp, stone staircase, and burst through the door at the top.
Oh, Jesus!
Lightning forks across the sky, followed a moment later by a loud rumble of thunder. The rain is still light, although the strong wind is making it look worse than it is.
There’s a crackling in my ear, and I hear Ruby’s muffled voice, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. I clasp my hand over it. “…you hear me? Adrian?”
“I hear you, Ruby. How’s everything your end?”
“The place is empty. I’ve locked the doors shut and I’m positioned at the bottom of the stairs. I have a clear view of the first floor and I’m covered with no blind spots. No one’s getting in here without me being able to shoot them if I need to.”
“That’s great!” I’m shouting over the storm. “Listen, we have a problem.”
“The weather?”
“Yeah, the storm’s bad out here, and only seems to be getting worse. The way it’s going, it won’t be long before they give the damn thing a name.”
“Shit. What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t have a choice, Ruby. I have to take this shot.”
“Do what you gotta do, Adrian. I’ve got you.”
I stride across the roof, and head back inside the main tower, quickly climbing the narrow, winding metal staircase. There’s no door at the end this time. The steps simply go up, and lead me back out into the storm, on top of the castle.
Dead ahead, the gray skyline of Rome stretches out before me. More lightning flashes behind the clouds, illuminating the heavens. Directly behind me, the tower shoots up, and the statue of Michael looms ominously over me, like a gothic beacon against the backdrop of a storm-ridden sky.
I move to the right edge and look out across the city. In the mid-distance, maybe eight hundred yards away, I can see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica.
But that’s all I see.
“Oh, fuck off…”
“What now?” crackles Ruby’s voice.
“That goddamn satellite feed we used wasn’t very helpful. I don’t have a shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, from here, I can’t see the canopy at the end of the square. It’s blocked by the buildings on the right side of the street approaching the Vatican City walls.”
I let out a low growl through teeth gritted with frustration.
I don’t have a shot.
33
10:23 CEST
I turn my back on the view, and pace away, frustrated and angry.
“Shit!” I wipe rain from my face and let out a muted cry. “Shit, shit, fuck, shit!”
So much for catching a break. Now what do I do? This was it. This was the one shot, the one chance we had at stopping this. I check my watch. Literally any moment now, Martinez is going to fulfill his Order’s goal, and take out the pope in front of the world. No one’s going to know he did it, and they’re going to win. He’s going to control everything, and Josh will have died for nothing.
I switch direction, pacing side to side, instead of back and forth.
Come on, Adrian, think!
There’s too much no
ise…
I stop in the middle of the roof, facing the statue, and drop to one knee. I set the case down in front of me, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. And another.
…
…
…
I can’t feel the world slowing around me.
Shit!
Come on, damn it!
Clear your mind.
I take more deep breaths, each one slower than the last.
…
…
…
Hey, Adrian, you miss me? Yeah, that’s right, it’s your Inner Satan here. Forgot all about me, didn’t you? Listen, I’m gonna let you off because of all the shit you got going on, but you need to pay attention now, okay? I know he’s dead, and that sucks, but now isn’t the time to mourn, or sink into the darkness. Losing your angel doesn’t mean your devil stops working. Now, the way I see it, someone’s about to wage war on God. Are you really gonna pass up a chance to cash in on the irony here? The biggest evil the world has never known is about to kill the pope… and the King of Assassins and his pet Satan are gonna stop them. Now… get your ass up, Adrian. Open your eyes, open your mind, and do what you were born to do. Get up!
I open my eyes, and slowly get to my feet, grabbing the case once more as I do. I look to my left, staring out at Vatican City again. This time, though, it looks different. This time, I don’t see a problem, I see a challenge.
I walk toward the edge behind me, away from the statue. I’ll lean out as much as I can, to see if I can get line of sight on the canopy. If I can see the shot, I’ll find a way of making it. But time’s running out, and I need to—
Well, fuck me sideways.
I smile to myself as I look over the side, thinking I would see the street, and the bridge, and the river below… but instead I see another roof, about eight feet down, jutting out maybe fifteen feet.
Sonofabitch.
I don’t think or hesitate. The end is in sight, clear to see in my mind. I know what needs doing, and my instincts are taking over, guiding me, and focusing me on getting the job done.
I place a foot up on the ledge and step up onto it.
Jesus… that eight feet just became fourteen!
I swing the case around, and let go, dropping it onto the roof below me. It slams down, loud and heavy. It’ll be fine—it’s titanium, so it’ll protect the rifle. Plus, it’s down there now, which means regardless of how much I don’t like the idea of jumping, I don’t have a lot of choice.
Talk about incentive.
Trying to keep any pressure away from my injured leg, I carefully crouch as I turn my body, preparing to hold onto the wall with my one good hand as I lower myself over the edge. If I hang down, that fourteen feet becomes two, which is much more manageable.
I kick against the side of the tower, searching for any grip with my feet as I place more of my body weight on my left arm.
Oh, man, this is going to suck.
I’m using my cast as much as I can, but the lower I go, the less use it is. I take it as slow as I dare, gradually shuffling my feet down the wall, flattening my body out against it. My left hand is throbbing. Just a little more…
A loud rumble of thunder crashes overhead and brings with it a renewed wave of rain.
This is not—
“Whoa!”
…
…
…
Ugh!
“Ah, shit!”
I lost my grip and fell backward. I must have dropped six feet easily, and I landed hard, flat on my back, on the roof below. I’m gasping for breath, having just had the wind knocked out of me. Thankfully, I lifted my head a little before impact, but my lower back took the full brunt of the fall.
“Adrian? Adrian, is everything alright?” crackles Ruby’s voice.
I grimace. “Yeah… kinda.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I just… ah… I just fell off the roof.”
“You did what?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds, there’s a lower level above the entrance. It’s only about eight feet down. I’ll be fine.”
“Jesus, Adrian… be careful.”
“Yeah.”
I roll over on my side and use my good arm and leg to push myself upright. I stretch as much as I can, hearing and feeling the crack as my back protests. I stagger toward the edge and peer over. The bridge leading back across the river is central, directly below me.
I look over toward the basilica.
Please tell me I can see—
…
…
…
Yes!
I have a full view of the canopy and the sea of multi-colored umbrellas filling the square.
I rush over to the case, ignoring the discomfort in my… well… pretty much everywhere, at this stage. I drag it back over to the far edge and click it open. Everything’s still intact. I take out the rifle and fold down the bi-pod stand attached to the barrel. I rest it on the ground, and then take out the scope, which I attach in place on top of the upper receiver. Finally, I slam the five-round magazine into the breach, and move to the upper-left corner of the roof, which is the closest point to the target.
More lightning flashes behind the dark clouds, momentarily igniting the sky. The rain is heavy, but holding, and the visibility poor, but manageable. I reach over to the case, and take out Josh’s fancy anemometer, which I stand to the side of the rifle. I turn it on and glance at the display.
Holy shit!
I’ve got a seventeen mile per hour wind coming in from the south, which is now on my left side. That’s going to make a tough shot even harder.
I shuffle on my front until I find a position that’s borderline comfortable. The ground is soaked, and the rain water is seeping inside my hoodie, making me shiver. I tuck the stock firmly into my left shoulder, and place my eye in front of the scope.
Straight away, St. Peter’s Square rushes toward me with frightening clarity. I can see the pope standing central beneath the canopy, wearing his white robes, and gesturing with his hands, clearly mid-speech. He has three cardinals on either side, standing a small distance behind him, wearing their red outfits.
I can see Martinez. He’s the one standing immediately to the right of the pope as I look on.
I adjust the focus on the scope, squeezing as much clarity as I can out of it. My display says nine hundred and eighty-eight yards to the target. The distance itself isn’t much of an issue for me. The problem I have is the crosswind. I’ll need to shoot way left of the camerlengo, so the wind can carry it back toward him, but doing that means the bullet is going to drift in front of the pope. If there’s a sudden drop in the wind speed, even by half a mile per hour, it might not make it far enough right, which means I could end up shooting His Holiness, instead of his piece of shit secretary.
I take a long, deep, tired breath.
No pressure, then.
I take as much time as I dare watching the scene. It’ll take a fraction over a second from me pressing the trigger to the bullet finding its mark, but that’s a long time to hope for zero movement from the target, and zero changes in the weather.
The rain is still beating down, wetting my face and hands. I blink away drips that threaten to impede my vision as I focus solely on the next shot. I’m lying prone, with my right arm bent beneath me; my chest resting on my cast for support. I’m trapping the stock between my chin and shoulder, and my left hand has a firm grip of the handle. My index finger is straight, resting against the trigger guard.
Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re sure you want to squeeze it.
I use the slightest of movements to adjust my view, looking along the line of cardinals. The pope still looks in full flow of his sermon, or whatever. Each of the cardinal bishops is standing stock still behind him, respectful and disciplined.
Wait. Is that…?
Yeah, it is.
Shit. I hate being right all the time.
I�
��m focusing on the camerlengo, and I can see a chalice in his hands, held low in front of him. He’s preparing to give it his boss as part of Communion. That’s how he’ll do it—I knew it!
Right, I need to do this now.
I flash a glance at the anemometer again. The wind speed is still the same. I re-focus my gaze through the scope, and adjust positioning for the shot.
The display is helping, but, honestly, shots like this are made on instinct. You just… I don’t know, feel when it’s right. Your heart rate increases naturally with excitement when your brain sees the shot that will find home. I inch the view left, so I’m looking almost at the cardinal on the other side of the pope.
I hope for his sake the wind doesn’t drop.
I move the rifle along the line again, lining the crosshairs up with Martinez’s head. I turn the first knob on the scope to adjust for the wind. Four clicks should do it. Next, I turn the second knob, to factor in the natural dip in trajectory as the bullet loses its velocity over the distance. I keep the crosshairs resting on Martinez’s head, right between his eyes.
Got you now, you bastard.
I can’t tell if it’s rain or sweat that’s running down my face right now.
Breathe, Adrian, nice and slow.
I move my finger through the guard, so it’s resting gently against the trigger. I throw a final glance to the anemometer. No change. One last look at my target. He’s not moved.
No, wait!
Fuck!
He’s just stepped to the pope’s side and placed the chalice on the pulpit in front of him.
Damn it! I’m out of time. I need to—
“Shit!”
I catch my breath, and frown. “Ruby?”
“Adrian, we’ve got a problem.”
As her words register in my ear, so too does the noise of cars screeching to a halt below me, carried up on the wind, subtle compared to the rush of the storm around me.
The Order!
“How many?”
Thicker Than Blood Page 21