Robert took a deep breath and apologized to the group. “Who are the members of The Order you’ve been following?”
“Sister Maria Bravo and Father Theodore Murphy,” said Bishop Ruini. “We’ve been tracking them for eighteen months. They’re both on special assignment to Cardinal Polletto.” Robert pressed back into the couch, thumping his thighs. “So, where do we go from here?”
Father Kong finished his tea. “First, we set up a rotation in Nettuna, around the clock.”
“No problem,” said Father Sebastani. “The others will be here by tomorrow night.”
Thorne cleared her throat. “The others?”
“Yes,” answered Sister Isabella. “Cardinal Maximilian has ordered all members of our group to Rome.”
Bishop Ruini turned to Father Kong. “We should tail Father Sin,” he said, with trepidation. The room fell silent.
“Who’s Father Sin?” Thorne finally asked.
“The thick shouldered priest you met leaving Father Tolbert’s room,” answered Father Sebastani.
Robert was so angry when he left Father Tolbert’s room, he barely remembered the man. “I gather he’s a member of The Order also?”
“Without a doubt,” said Father Kong. “He’s known as The Order’s death angel.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed.
“Death angel?” asked Robert.
Father Kong looked at the others. “He’s their head of security, and an assassin.”
Robert looked over at Thorne, then back at the others. “If you know this, why is he still alive?”
“We haven’t been able to implicate him enough to get him arrested,” said Father Sebastani.
“Arrested?” shot Thorne. “How about a good ole fashion bullet to the brain?”
The three priests and nun sat quietly. Father Kong finally stood, walked over, and stopped in front of Robert and Thorne. “Because he’s an assassin, a murderer we are not.”
Robert eased to the edge of the couch. “Neither are we. But people will die if they get in my way. I swear it.”
“We understand that, Mr. Veil,” said Bishop Ruini. “We don’t approve, but do understand. Lord willing, we can get Samuel back without loss of life.”
Thorne cleared her throat. “I noticed none of you are carrying weapons.”
Father Kong stepped back. “We’re not allowed to carry weapons in Italy, especially in Vatican City or Rome. It would make it too easy for us to be discovered.”
Robert laughed. “Then how are we going to defend ourselves?” Thorne shook her head.
“The Order’s under the same constraints as we are,” said Sister Isabella. “But they will reach out to less than honorable Italian forces to do their dirty work. An advantage we lack.”
“Great,” chimed Robert, “the mafia. So we’re grossly outgunned?”
“No,” answered Father Sebastani. “Greater are they who are with us, than those who are with them. God will make a way. You’ll see.”
“What makes you so sure?” asked Robert.
“Because, without faith, it’s impossible to please God,’ said Father Kong. “In the end, you have to believe.”
“I believe,” said Thorne. “But I won’t give up my gun. In fact, I’d appreciated it if one of you would commandeer a shotgun for me, preferably a sawed-off.”
The clerics looked at each other. “That we can do,” Father Kong finally said.
Robert stood. “Let’s get started.”
“As soon as the others arrive, and Cardinal Maximilian gives the final order,” said Sister Isabella. “He’ll be here tomorrow night. So will Cardinal Polletto.”
“You’ll stay here tonight,” said Bishop Ruini. “I’ve prepared your rooms.”
They all hugged, bound by the same purpose, finding Samuel and stopping The Order of Asmodeus.
Bishop Ruini prayed. “Lord, give us wisdom and strength, and keep Samuel safe and secure.”
An hour later, alone, staring at the high ceiling, Robert tossed, turned, and kneaded his pillow. He closed his eyes and prayed. He was close to getting his godson back. He thought of Donovan. Robert’s eyes watered, but he fought them back. Not now. Not yet. He turned over and let his eyelids fall. He dreamed that Samuel was back in his arms, and The Order of Asmodeus burning in hell.
33
Inside the Church of St. Stephen, just east behind St. Paul’s Basilica, Father Tolbert, hands behind his back, paced impatiently in front of the altar, checking his watch every five minutes. They’re late.
Maybe they’re not coming. He walked to the chapel doors and peeked outside several times, deathly afraid Robert Veil and his partner had followed him, hopeful that Eduardo and his father would arrive soon.
Robert Veil had rattled him to his core. First, by showing up in Rome looking for Samuel, and second, by uncovering his secret; his dreadful desire for children. Shocked and startled, the priest had almost confessed and accepted his fate. However, cowardice overtook him and the truth remained hidden, locked behind his deceitful lips.
Knees weak, Father Tolbert sat down on the altar steps, barely able to stay upright. For what seemed like an eternity, a battle, a struggle, raged inside him, a compulsive hunger to touch childlike innocence, which in his youth went wanting. He tried to fight it off through counseling and prayer, but time and again, he met only defeat.
His earliest recollection of the struggle came a year before he finished his seminary. Before that, up until the age of fourteen, he grew up alone in a small Italian village, a bastard nobody wanted, or paid much attention to, except for a compassionate young priest on the rise, Giafranco Polletto.
When Father Tolbert turned six years old, Cardinal Polletto had gently informed him that his mother died at childbirth, and that his father had abandoned him and was nowhere to be found. Cardinal Polletto, his only friend, shifted him from family to family, and did his best to make sure he was well taken care of and safe.
However, having a busy grown-up as his only friend plunged Father Tolbert into bouts of deep depression. A fate he faced alone. He didn’t make friends easily, and when he eventually did, he was yanked to another family, in another town. Then Cardinal Polletto was transferred from Rome to Chicago, and Father Tolbert was placed with the Antonini’s, another family beholden to the cardinal in Brooklyn, New York.
Father Tolbert enjoyed New York City and adjusted quickly, only to find himself in Chicago less than a year later. Not long after the move, Cardinal Polletto, then a bishop, continued to look after Father Tolbert closely, seeing the troubled youth through high school and college at Northwestern University. Father Tolbert became a loner, and although he was considered to be very handsome, most girls showed very little tolerance for his introverted personality, heavy drinking and drug use.
After college, Father Tolbert drifted from job to job, but nothing satisfied him. His only avenue of true comfort came from attending mass, and the counseling sessions organized by Cardinal Polletto at St.
Thomas Cathedral, where Father Tolbert was always at ease and trouble free. He took his comfort in the Church as a sign, and with the help of Cardinal Polletto, enrolled in the seminary to become a catholic priest.
Comfortable during his time at the seminary, Father Tolbert made a few real friends, and thought he’d found his place in the world.
Then, a year before graduating, while on assignment at St. Thomas Elementary School, he became enamored with and molested his first child, Cedric Benson, an enthusiastic boy, friendly and eager to please, who eventually grew up, floated in and out of jail, and hung himself in a rundown motel in Los Angeles. Slowly, Father Tolbert fell into a pattern too satisfying to stop, and like a drug, his appetite for child innocence increased, consuming him inside out, and hurting child after child along the way.
Father Tolbert checked his watch again. Eduardo’s father, Armanno, had promised to have Eduardo at the chapel by ten o’clock. They were forty-five minutes late. At eleven-fifteen, the doors to the Church
eased open, and Father Wex Angler, young and studious, also on temporary assignment to the Vatican Archives from a parish in Australia, slid inside, searching the shadows of the sanctuary, illuminated only by the sunlight gleaming through the beautiful stained glass frescoes. Father Tolbert called out, and the young priest’s trademark enthusiasm immediately filled up the building.
“I’ve been searching all over for you,” said Father Angler. “There’s a young boy and his father waiting for you in your room. They showed up an hour ago and said they had an appointment with you. We searched all over. Thankfully I found you here.”
“Thank you, Father. I appreciate your effort. We were supposed to meet here, but I guess they misunderstood,” said Father Tolbert.
“I left them alone in your room. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all,” said Father Tolbert, gathering his things. “I’m sure they appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown them.” Father Angler’s smile widened and he bent over slightly, hands together. “Thank you, Father,” he said, effusive with delight. “You’re too kind.”
After three minutes of convincing, Father Angler finally accepted that Father Tolbert didn’t need help carrying his things back to the room.
The eager to please priest finally bounded off, no doubt searching for his next good deed.
Father Angler’s enthusiasm left Father Tolbert embarrassed, ashamed and envious. He could barely remember his own zeal for the Church, excitement and energy now buried deep in a trash dump of unforgivable sin.
Father Tolbert reached his room and stood outside, hands on the doorknob. He closed his eyes, took a deep nostril breath, and went inside.
“Father, we’re so sorry,” said Armanno, running over. He grabbed Father Tolbert’s hand and kissed it. “Please forgive our stupidity. I thought you meant for us to meet you here.” Father Tolbert accepted the fish trader’s apology and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Its okay, it’s an understandable misunderstanding.” He winked at Eduardo sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling.
Armanno pulled a dingy handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and dabbed at his sweaty face. “If today is not a good day, we can come back tomorrow.”
“Nonsense,” said Father Tolbert, walking over to Eduardo. “Hello, young man. How are we today?”
Eduardo’s smile threatened to crack his face wide open. “I’m fine, Father.”
Father Tolbert fought back his urge to run the back of his hand down Eduardo’s cheek. He turned to Armanno. “This might be a blessing in disguise. Instead of a long drawn out affair, I’ll spend an hour or so with Eduardo, asking him a few questions. You come back in an hour or so, and we’ll schedule something more formal for next week.” Armanno looked over at his son then back at Father Tolbert. “That will be fine, but shouldn’t I stay. I’d like to see what we’re getting ourselves into.”
Father Tolbert laughed. “I understand, my friend, but Eduardo will have to do much of this without his papa watching over him. He’s a fine boy, and I’m sure you’ve taught him well. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s very rarely been out of my sight since his mother died giving birth to him.” Armanno beamed. “But as you wish, Father. We trust you very much. I’ll take a walk around Il Vaticano and come back in an hour.”
Father Tolbert gave a bow. “Perfect,” he exclaimed. “Let’s get started.”
Armanno walked over to Eduardo and knelt. “Be good and do just as Father Tolbert tells you. I’ll be back soon.” He gave his son a hug and left the room.
When Father Tolbert turned around, Eduardo’s smile was gone, replaced by a look of trepidation. The priest took a handful of candy, chocolates this time, sat them on the bed in front of the boy and pulled up a chair. “Help yourself,” he said, grabbing several pieces himself, and stuffing them in his mouth. “They’re good,” he mumbled, through a full mouth.
Eduardo laughed, grabbed two pieces, and did the same. They stuffed chocolate in their mouths until it was gone. Father Tolbert went to the bathroom, got a washcloth and cleaned Eduardo’s face.
“That was fun,” said Eduardo. “Thank you, Father.”
“You’re welcome, my son. Now, tell me, how’s that rubber ball I gave you? Putting it to good use I hope.” Eduardo reached in his pocket and removed the ball. “I take it everywhere,” he said. “I’m getting good at catching it.”
“Great,” beamed Father Tolbert. “We’ll have to play sometimes.” He got up, went to the closet and returned with a blue plastic bat and small baseball glove. He gave them to Eduardo, whose mouth opened wide in astonishment.
“Wow!” said Eduardo, so excited he almost fell off of the bed.
Father Tolbert caught him and helped him back up. “Grazie, tante grazie!” He jumped up and gave the priest a hug.
Father Tolbert laughed and closed his eyes. “Prego,” he told Eduardo. “You’re very welcome.”
The priest put his nose to the boy’s hair and took a long whiff, rubbing his cheek to Eduardo’s, then pushed away, his breathing heavy, heart pounding, member hardening. Eduardo, oblivious to anything but his new toys, sat back down tossing the ball up into the air and catching it with the glove.
Father Tolbert sat back down. “Wouldn’t it be nice to do this all the time?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Eduardo, tossing the ball higher. “Could we?”
“Yes,” said the priest. “But it would have to be our little secret.
Grown-ups don’t always understand.”
Eduardo continued to play. “Yes, Father, anything you say.” Father Tolbert sat back and watched Eduardo, enjoying his playfulness as though it were a snort of cocaine or a hit off the crack pipe. The longer he watched, the further he was sucked into the boy’s innocence, and the more excited he became. After a while, he didn’t see Eduardo, he saw Samuel, which only increased his excitement. It took every bit of his will not to throw himself at the boy. Not now. It’s too early. Be patient. A knock at the door slapped Father Tolbert lucid. He sprang from his chair and grabbed the glove and bat.
“We’ll keep these in my closet,” he whispered. “Just a second,” he called out, putting the toys away. He smoothed out his hair, and opened the door. Cardinal Polletto, Father Ortega, Armanno, and another little boy stared back at him. Father Tolbert fell back against a table, knocking the lamp to the ground. “Cardinal Polletto, I didn’t know you were coming,” gushed Father Tolbert. He bent over, effusive, sweating, and kissed the cardinal’s hand.
“Hello, Father. I wanted my visit to be a surprise,” said Cardinal Polletto.
Father Tolbert stepped back, startled. He scanned the faces looking back at him. Nobody smiled. He took a closer look at the little boy. His mouth fell open. He was the spitting image of Samuel too. He looked back at Eduardo, then at Cardinal Polletto.
“Please,” said the cardinal, walking into the room, “may we come inside?”
“Papa,” cried Eduardo. He jumped off the bed, ran to Armanno and jumped into his arms.
Father Tolbert continued to examine the two children who looked like Samuel’s twins. Cardinal Polletto smiled. “Look familiar?” he asked.
“They look like Samuel,” Father Tolbert stammered. “What’s going on?
“All in due time,” answered the cardinal. “But please,” Cardinal Polletto motioned for the two children to come over, “this is Felipe, you’ve already met Eduardo. Children, I’d like you to meet your father, Charles Tolbert.”
34
Cardinal Polletto watched Father Tolbert’s eyes dance, as his words sank in deep.
“Their father?” the stunned priest mumbled. “What are you talking about?”
Cardinal Polletto sat down on the bed. “Leave us alone,” he told Armanno and Father Ortega. “And take the children.” The two children stood motionless, their eyes fixed tight on Father Tolbert, their little faces etched with confusion. Armanno took both by the hand, smiling as Father Tolbert continued to sway off kilter, his eyes dartin
g around the room in wonder.
“We’ll wait for you in the car,” said Father Ortega, looking over at Father Tolbert, meanness swelling in his eyes.
“That’ll be fine,” said the cardinal. “I won’t be very long.” Everyone herded out of the room, the children still staring at Father Tolbert, then at each other, mouths open. The door shut, the sound reverberating with a bang off the walls. Cardinal Polletto and Father Tolbert stared at each other, silent.
“Please, have a seat,” the cardinal finally said, motioning the distraught priest toward the bed.
Father Tolbert bumped into a lamp stand on his way over to the bed, and plopped down. Cardinal Polletto gave him the once over. You fool.
You very necessary fool. “So, how have you been holding up? Are the urges as strong as ever, or have you managed to keep control?”
“Don’t toy with me,” cried Father Tolbert, shaking. “Why did you tell those children I’m their father?”
Cardinal Polletto smiled. “Because you are,” he said.
“But, I don’t understand. That’s impossible,” said Father Tolbert, confused.
Cardinal Polletto watched Father Tolbert’s confusion grow. “How much of your childhood do you remember?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Father Tolbert had grown up alone, teased and made fun of as a boy, ignored most of his adult life. Cardinal Polletto had tried to place him with good families, but nobody would agree to keep him permanently.
So, the weak man sitting before him had developed into a pedophile.
“I try not to remember,” said Father Tolbert. “As you know, my childhood wasn’t pleasant.”
“I know,” said the cardinal. “After your mother died, I tried to make things normal. Please forgive me for my failure.”
“Oh no,” said Father Tolbert. “You did the best you could, protecting me all these years. It’s more than I deserve. But I still don’t understand about the children.”
Cardinal Polletto sat forward. “Father Tolbert, I’ve waited a long time for the right time to tell you this, but you and I are more than colleagues. You’re my sister’s first and only child. We’re family.” Father Tolbert’s eyes widened. Gasps of air puffed out of his lips.
Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God Page 16