Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God

by Reginald Cook

  “How? When?” asked Cardinal Polletto, his voice stern and angry, fist wrapped tight around the secure satellite phone.

  “We’ve been looking for over an hour,” answered Sister Bravo, cool and steady. “He jumped out of a parked car and ran into a crowd, but we’ll find him. I have a team on it.”

  “How many?”

  “Sin, Murphy, and two others. They’re scouring the streets in plainclothes, around the clock. ”

  “It’s not enough. Put everybody on the streets. Make it an all out effort. I want him found quickly.”

  Sister Bravo cleared her throat. “We should keep the effort small, but deliberate. I want him found too, and I take full responsibility for losing him in the first place, but we don’t want to attract unwanted attention.”

  “If he’s not found quickly, and the Americans get hold of him, what kind of attention do you think that will attract?”

  “I understand, Cardinal. I was just thinking that he’s in Rome, and knows no one. We have the advantage.”

  “Sooner or later somebody will point him to, or take him to the American Embassy. So I don’t think our advantage will last very long.” Sister Bravo fell silent. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat again. “You’re right. I’ll add a few more bodies on the street, but I still think a full scale effort is too dangerous.” Cardinal Polletto leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Very well,” he finally said. “But remember, Rome can be dangerous, even for those who know the streets. If something should happen to Samuel, we’ll pay the price.”

  “Forgive me, Cardinal, but if Samuel Napier is who you say he his, nothing will happen to him.”

  Cardinal Polletto smiled. True, very true. “You’re correct, Sister, but that won’t stop him from falling into the wrong hands. Contact Captain Merced at the Vatican Secret Service, and have him put two men loyal to us on it quietly.”

  “Very well, Cardinal. But there is one other matter.”

  “Yes.”

  “If we don’t find the boy within the next twelve hours, I must notify the tribunal at The Order. He’s my responsibility, and I won’t burn for this without them knowing.”

  The cardinal stroked his chin. “Very well, twelve hours, then we’ll notify the tribunal, but not before.”

  The line went dead. Cardinal Polletto stumbled over to a locked cabinet, opened it, poured himself a glass of wine and sat back down. He drained one glass, then another. Stupid, stupid fools! How could they lose the boy?

  The last thing Cardinal Polletto wanted was to irritate the tribunal at The Order of Asmodeus. For centuries, The Order had worked every angle to torment The Church, watching and waiting for the opportunity to deliver the death blow. With that day in sight, he had managed to fumble The Order’s golden opportunity, a mistake that would certainly not go unpunished. Even he, leader of The Order, was not above its precepts, and his enemies on the tribunal wouldn’t hesitate to take his head.

  The cardinal agreed with Sister Bravo on one point. Samuel Napier was no ordinary boy, and any fear of his untimely demise was unfounded. The setback, although catastrophic, couldn’t stop the boy’s destiny. However, his destiny was another story. He paced the room. I need to act. I need to do something. A Machiavellian smile crept across his face.

  He rushed to his desk and rifled through his drawers until he found an old, torn address book, its pages stained from age, and located names he hadn’t called on in years. He hesitated, rocking back and forth in the chair. If The Order finds out Samuel’s gone, I’ll be killed. I must get him back.

  He stared down at names of men and women loyal to him, but not The Order. Using outsiders was frowned upon, but this was no ordinary predicament. He had to find the boy, and his old friends in Rome were the best in the business.

  Cardinal Polletto dialed the leader of the group. A gruff, male voice answered.

  “It’s me,” said Cardinal Polletto.

  “Ahhh, Your Eminence,” said a voice on the other end. “So nice to hear from you, it’s been a long time. We’ve been waiting for your call.” Cardinal Polletto sat up straight. “Oh?”

  “Yes, we understand you’ve lost a little boy.”

  19

  A light rain burst into a torrential shower, as Robert trailed a black Ford Excursion with dark tinted windows through the wet Chicago streets. Cardinal Maximilian had refused to talk to Robert and Thorne in the parking deck under Detective Reynolds’ apartment building, so they agreed to follow them to a more secure location.

  “This keeps getting weirder by the second,” said Thorne, loading extra shells into her shotgun. “Are you sure these are the guys who tried to help save Samuel?”

  Robert wasn’t sure about the others, but recognized Cardinal Maximilian’s distinct voice. “I’m sure,” he answered. “The cardinal was definitely there, so he knows something.”

  ”I’ve never known priests to carry Mac-10’s and shotguns. They look more like mercenaries.”

  “Well, I plan to get answers. Right now, they’re the best lead we’ve got.”

  Thorne checked the clip in her Glock 20 10mm automatic.

  Robert looked over at her. “Think we’ll need all of that?” he asked.

  “A girl’s got to be ready when she goes out. Besides, like I said, they’re priests carrying shotguns. At this point, anything’s possible.” The SUV rolled south down Halsted to 49th Street, made a left, and parked in front of a large dilapidated warehouse on Wallace. The area, formally home to the stockyards that made Chicago’s meat industry famous, was now called Back of the Yards, and most of the old meat and slaughterhouses were a long gone memory.

  One of Cardinal Maximilian’s people jumped out and disappeared inside the condemned, windowless tomb. A few moments later, a signal from the front door said it was safe for everyone to come inside.

  The warehouse reminded Robert of several he’d held similar meetings in around the world. Most notably, a haunting structure in Frankfurt, Germany, where he and Thorne ended up shooting it out with a group of pissed-off Nazis dealing black market munitions to the Middle East. They barely made it out alive.

  Robert followed Cardinal Maximilian in silence. Thorne brought up the rear behind the five others, whose faces remained hidden behind ski masks. The warehouse, cold, rank and wet, held nothing more than a few rows of rusted shelving and stacks of rotted wooden pallets. Even in the shadows, Robert spied several rats the size of big cats scurrying overhead along the steel beamed rafters. They reached a far corner and stopped.

  One of the cardinal’s people turned on a fluorescent lantern and sat it on a stack of wooden crates. Thorne moved to the right side of the group, expressionless, both hands on the pistol grip, her eyes coolly scanning back and forth.

  “So, Mr. Veil, tell us how much you know so far?” asked Cardinal Maximilian.

  “Let’s see, my godson’s been kidnapped. One of my oldest friends doesn’t want me involved, and somehow the Church has a hand in it,” he responded.

  Cardinal Maximilian took a deep breath. “I was hoping to hear more about what you’ve learned so far.”

  Robert stared hard at the cardinal. “Forgive me, but I still don’t know who you are. You say you’re a priest?”

  Cardinal Maximilian looked over at his compatriots, then back at Robert and Thorne. “Yes, I’m a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church.”

  “Since when do clerics run around in ski masks carrying guns?”

  “Since 1853,” said Cardinal Maximilian. “Of course, the weapons of choice have changed, but our mandate remains the same.” Thorne took a step forward. “Mandate?”

  The cardinal placed his hands behind his back and paced, deep in thought. After a moment, he lifted his head. “Before I explain, allow me to introduce you to my people.” The four men and one woman stood erect at Cardinal Maximilian’s words. “First, there’s Sister Isabella Cacciavillian.”

  One of the five, carrying a shoulder strapped Uzi, stepped forward and removed her ski mask
. A dark haired, no nonsense woman with cat-like gray eyes, smiled and shook out her hair. “Ciao! It’s a blessing to meet you. Please call me Sister Isabella.” The nun bowed her head, smiled at Thorne, then stepped back in line with the others. Her posture, head high, standing tall, reminded Robert of his partner. He sensed a power behind Sister Isabella’s gentile manner and mesmerizing Italian accent.

  The next in the group slowly walked over to Robert, one hand extended, the other removing his mask. The gentle, smiling face of a handsome Chinese man with shoulder length jet-black hair lit up the warehouse.

  “I am Father Shan Rui Kong,” he said, head bowing slightly, eyes never leaving Robert’s. The priest’s smile widened. He grasped Robert’s hand gently with both of his, bowed again, this time his eyes to the ground, then turned to Thorne and did the same.

  The next in line rushed forward and snatched off his mask so fast, Robert thought Thorne might shoot him. But one look at the toothy grin of Father Nicholas O’Conner and Robert knew they were in no danger at all. The priest introduced himself, and gave Robert a strong hug. Father O’Conner’s salt and pepper hair and beard beamed an almost grandfatherly look, but the rock hard muscles Robert noticed during the hug told a much different story.

  Next, the smallest of the group, Monsignor Fernandes Falco removed his mask and stepped forward, his hard, chiseled face and pronounced features more monster than man. He shook Robert’s hand without a word, glared at Thorne then resumed his place.

  Finally, Bishop Nicholas Lantern, young, handsome and obviously athletic, greeted both Robert and Thorne with a hint of disdain. He barely made eye contact, and abruptly rejoined his comrades, jaws clinched, eyes narrow.

  Cardinal Maximilian cleared his throat, as though trying to sway attention away from the young cleric. “And of course, I’ve already introduced myself.”

  “Cardinal James Francis Maximilian,” repeated Thorne, sarcastically and smiling. “We remember.”

  “Feel free to call me Cardinal Max, except in public,” the cardinal said jokingly. “And you are Miss Nikki Thorne.” He walked over to Thorne, hands behind his back. “Your mother was murdered when you were fourteen. Your father raised you and your brother, and you had a twin brother who died at birth. You and Mr. Veil have been friends since thirteen, served in the Marines and CIA together. No kids or pets.” Thorne’s eyes never left the cardinal’s. “Nice,” she said, through a slight admiring smile. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” added the cardinal, looking around at the others. “We understand what happened to you years ago, and want you to know you stay in our prayers. God has forgiven you and Mr. Veil.” The hair on Robert’s head bristled. Thorne, visibly shaken, let the pistol grip swing from her shoulder.

  The cardinal gave a reassuring smile. “I understand why you two are so close. It’s nice to have good friends.” Up until that point, Robert was sure nobody knew about the situation Cardinal Maximilian spoke of, a secret that bound Robert and Thorne together, forever.

  Thorne gathered herself and held her head high. She continued to gaze hard at Cardinal Maximilian in silence.

  “But that’s a matter for a different time,” the cardinal continued, turning toward Robert. “Now, let me tell you about Il Martello di Dio, and The Order of Asmodeus.”

  20

  “In 1853, Pope Pius IX had a vision,” said Cardinal Maximilian.

  “A band of demons, lead by Satan’s chief, Asmodeus, set out to destroy the Church from within. Pope Pius’ written account, sealed in a safe inside the Pontiff’s office to this very day, details the satanic treachery planned against the Church, and the Lord’s mandate that a group of God’s willing servants be assembled to battle The Order.”

  “That’s what they’re called?” asked Robert.

  “Officially, they refer to themselves as The Order of Asmodeus,” said the cardinal. “We call them The Order.” Robert walked closer to the cardinal. “You say they’re trying to destroy the Church from the inside?”

  “Yes,” said Cardinal Maximilian. “They have an extensive network of priests and nuns throughout the Church worldwide. That’s their mandate. They corrode from within, like a cancer.”

  “If you know this, then why not kick them out?” asked Thorne.

  Cardinal Maximilian walked over to Thorne. “They’re very good at staying hidden. It’s hard to know who’s who, so rooting them out hasn’t been easy.”

  The cardinal took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, and lost his balance. Immediately, Bishop Lantern and Monsignor Falco assembled crates so he could sit down.

  “Forgive me, it’s been quite a long week,” gasped the cardinal.

  Thorne leaned her shotgun up against some boxes, produced an unopened bottle of water from her coat pocket and handed it to the cardinal.

  “Thank you, my child,” said Cardinal Maximilian.

  Thorne nodded, retrieved the shotgun and resumed her position.

  “The Order’s biggest campaign over the years has recently resulted in its most penetrating damage here in the States,” Cardinal Maximilian continued.

  “You mean the child molestation?” asked Robert.

  “Yes.”

  “Forgive me, Cardinal, but are you trying to get me to believe The Order is responsible for all the pedophiles in the Church?”

  “No,” said the cardinal. “I’m saying one of their tactics is to look for weaknesses and play on them. They instigate, prod and persuade, trying to develop anything to damage our reputation and credibility.”

  “That sounds like an excuse,” said Thorne. “I don’t buy it.”

  “Look, we’re primarily to blame,” snapped the cardinal, then catching himself. “I’m only saying that once The Order found an opening, they worked overtime to make sure the cancer spread.”

  “Is that why the Church is working so hard to hide evidence and a guilty priest?” fired Robert. “It looks like a classic case of cover-up, and nobody’s taking the blame.”

  Cardinal Maximilian bristled. “No doubt you understand a great many things, Mr. Veil, but ours is a very old system of laws and practices. We must handle things in a manner that will leave the Church whole, or our enemies, including The Order, have won.” Robert looked at the ground and shook his head. “Why the weapons?

  Despite the threat, it seems out of place.”

  “That’s understandable,” said Father Kong. “But, in fact, it’s very necessary. When this battle first started, it was more a search and find operation. Then, when Il Martello di Dio came close to rooting out The Order in the early 1900’s, priests turned up dead. Shot, stabbed and hung.

  After that, in 1925, Pope Pius XI made two changes. First, he allowed nuns to join, and two, he sanctioned the use of weapons outside of Rome, and even then only in extreme cases, where loss of life would be detrimental to our cause.”

  “Why the use of women so late?” asked Thorne.

  “The Holy Fathers sought to protect us from harm,” said Sister Isabella. “But when it became apparent that the sisters could provide greater stealth and information, we gratefully answered the Lord’s call.”

  “How large is your group?” asked Robert.

  “Our numbers are classified,” answered Cardinal Maximilian. “But our network is large and far reaching. The others are presently on assignments around the world, including Rome. One of us always stays at the Vatican on the staff of the Holy See, in case of dire emergencies.” The more Robert heard the more unbelievable it sounded. His time in the CIA taught him just how powerful and penetrating the Catholic Churches reach was in the world, but this stretch shocked him to his core.

  “Okay, let’s say I believe you,” said Robert. “Now, what does this have to do with Samuel?”

  Cardinal Maximilian stood. “Here, take a seat, my son.” Robert, anxious, shifted from side to side. “Thank you, but I’d like to stand.”

  The cardinal stared for a moment then sat back down. “How much do you know about Samuel’s life be
fore he came to the Napiers?” Robert hadn’t heard from Evie yet on her investigation into Samuel’s brief existence before the adoption. “Not much,” he answered. “I never really thought to ask Donovan about it.” The cardinal cleared his throat. “Well, we’ve been aware of Samuel’s existence since before he was born.”

  “And what does that mean?” shot Thorne.

  “It means Samuel’s birth was well thought out,” the cardinal answered. “Nothing was left to chance, every detail was accounted for.”

  “So, he was the product of family planning?” quipped Robert. “Why would that make him a target for kidnappers?”

  “We believe The Order took Samuel,” said Cardinal Maximilian.

  “To get what?” asked Robert, impatiently. “Certainly, if they are who you say they are, money is the least of their problems.”

  “It’s not what they can get, but who they believe Samuel is that’s the cause for the boy’s misfortune.”

  Robert closed his eyes. “Who do they believe he is?” The cardinal walked over to Robert, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, calm and compassionate. “They believe Samuel Napier is the Anti-Christ.”

  Robert’s eyes popped open and he rocked back. “The what?”

  “They believe Samuel is the one spoken of in the Book of Revelation. The one who has come to destroy mankind,” stated the cardinal, stern and serious.

  Robert shook his head in disbelief, not fully able to accept the cardinal’s words. A tingle shot down his spine, his face beaded with sweat, his chest heaving. “You believe that?” he finally asked.

  The cardinal looked over at his people, then back at Robert. “We’re not sure.”

  “This is crazy,” chimed Thorne. “What would give anyone the idea that the ten year old boy we’ve know since he was a baby is the Devil?”

  “The Anti-Christ,” the cardinal corrected, “not the Devil.”

  “Whatever,” shot Thorne. “The point is if they believe that nonsense, then they have a reason.”