Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God

by Reginald Cook

  Thorne lifted her right hand in the air. Everybody came to a stop and dipped down lower in the grass. Three minutes passed without a sound.

  Thorne came back to Robert.

  “We need to tighten up the line and keep it narrow right behind me,” she whispered. “I found a Bouncing Betty.” Robert rallied everyone into a narrow formation. He’d seen the havoc a Bouncing Betty could do to a human being. When stepped on, it propelled itself upwards about waist-high and exploded, sending dense shrapnel buzz sawing through its victim, tearing their torso in half. The device was used heavily in Vietnam, when thousands of U.S. soldiers made its rude, deadly acquaintance.

  Despite the threat, the team made it to the first wall, then moved to the wall just outside the main house without incident. Robert used night-vision goggles to scan the front gate and the area along the wall, searching for the right spot to enter. Armed sentries patrolled one thousand foot sections of the wall. All of them looked diligent, as though they’d been warned to keep an eye open for intruders.

  To get over the wall without being seen, Robert estimated that they’d have to immobilize all three guards on one side of the wall, simultaneously. He dispatched Father Kong to the far end, Thorne to the middle, and he took the guard closest to him. Everyone used their radio headsets to signal that they were in position. Robert counted three. Each of them shot a tranquilizer dart into the guards, and by the time each man realized they hadn’t been stung by a bug, they were deep asleep, face down in the dirt.

  Robert, Thorne and Sister Isabella grouped together. As planned, Thorne ran to the ten-foot wall, tossed up a grappling hook and climbed to the top with ease. Robert saw her use night-vision binoculars to scan the other side of the compound.

  “Come one at a time, on my mark,” she said in Robert’s earpiece.

  “Three, two, one.”

  Sister Isabella ran to the wall and made it up like a pro. By the time Robert pulled himself up and over, both women had neutralized two guards and were hunched down behind a large truck parked five hundred feet from the house.

  The main house, a two-story country home as picturesque as any Robert had ever seen, was dark inside, except for lights in two rooms on the second floor. The house was well lit outside, with floodlights beaming down on the surrounding grounds.

  “I count four guards we’ll have to bring down to reach the house,” said Sister Isabella, in the earpiece. “Two to the left, one on the right, and one on the roof.”

  Thorne volunteered to take the two on the left. Sister Isabella, the man on the right. After the women were in position, Robert pulled a rifle with scope from over his shoulder, screwed on a silencer, and waited.

  Thorne dropped both men without a hitch, her darts hitting them in their necks. Sister Isabella missed, but Robert caught hers twice in the chest before he could blink. The man on the roof leaned forward as though he’d heard a sound. Robert aimed carefully. The man caught a glimpse of Sister Isabella and put a handheld radio to his ear. Robert sent him falling backwards with a dead shot to the throat.

  Robert ran for the house and pressed himself up against the wall.

  Thorne and Sister Isabella followed. “Stay away from the windows,” he said. “I’m sure they have sensors attached. We’ll climb to the roof. I’m sure our friend up top has an easier entrance available.” Thorne and Sister Isabella acknowledged with a nod.

  Robert stepped back and readied the rope and grappling hook, while both women kept a lookout for any surprises. Once the rope was secure, Thorne grabbed hold first and pulled herself up in no time. Sister Isabella went next, struggled just a bit, but made it up too. Robert started his ascent, but halfway up, Thorne hissed, looked down, and pointed to his left. Two guards approached. Robert quickly lowered himself back to the ground.

  One of the guards caught a glimpse of Robert and aimed. Robert pointed the rifle, but before he could get off a shot, both guards were flat on their backs. Robert looked up. Thorne and Sister Isabella smiled and gave him the thumbs up.

  Robert hid the bodies, climbed up top, and found an open entrance down into the house. “We have to move quickly,” he said. “The sedative in the darts will keep them out for at least an hour, but not much longer.” He led the way down into what looked like an attic bedroom, dim and musty, with cobwebs and rat droppings all over the floor. Fifteen feet from the window, he spotted a narrow row of steps that went down to a closed door. He carefully eased down, testing each step for creaks, not wanting to telegraph their presence. When they reached the door, Robert pressed his ear against it and listened, nothing. Thirty seconds later, they were on the second floor. Robert signaled for Thorne to check the rooms on the left. He and Sister Isabella took the rooms on the right.

  Robert braced the rifle against his shoulder. Sister Isabella opened the doors. Each door they tried gave them the same, nothing. When they finished the floor, Thorne gave the all clear.

  Robert pointed downstairs. The lights were off and they didn’t hear any voices. They edged their way down, guns pointing in every direction.

  Robert smelled the sweet aroma of recently smoked tobacco, mixed with garlic and other unintelligible spices, all fighting for room in his nostrils.

  They crept down a long hallway, where a door was cracked open at the end. A light was on inside, and when they reached it, Robert gently pushed it open.

  Sitting in large recliner was a grandfatherly man, in a black Polo shirt, burgundy sweater vest, smoking a pipe. On the couch sat a vivacious, buxom Italian woman, who would’ve shamed the most alluring movie star. Rinaldo and Dianora. Rinaldo waved them over.

  Dianora puffed on a cigar.

  “Ahhh, Mr. Robert Veil, I presume. Come in, we’ve been waiting,” said Rinaldo.

  Robert and the others burst inside, guns pointing at Rinaldo, Dianora, and all over the room. It was clear, except for the old man and his daughter.

  “Get your hands up where we can see them,” barked Thorne, but the two were slow to comply. She walked over to Dianora, pulled her real weapon, a Glock, and pointed it at the Italian beauty’s head. “I mean it, gorgeous, now!”

  Dianora smiled, and slowly raised her hands. “No need for rudeness.

  We’re not armed.”

  “My daughter speaks the truth,” added Rinaldo, packing his pipe with fresh tobacco. “If we wanted, we could’ve arranged a far more serious greeting, and you would not have gotten this far. But I wanted to meet you. Unfortunately, getting out won’t be as easy.” Robert eased toward the old man, Sister Isabella right behind him.

  Robert checked Rinaldo for weapons. He was clean. Thorne gave Dianora a rough frisk.

  “She’s clean,” said Thorne. Dianora gave her a hard scowl.

  “Please, have a seat,” Rinaldo offered. “I have good wine, and enough tobacco to go around.”

  Robert lowered his weapon, as did Sister Isabella. Thorne kept hers aimed at Dianora.

  “Thank you,” said Robert. “But we don’t have time. We need information from you, fast.”

  Rinaldo smiled. “If I can be of assistance, I surely will. What is it that you require?”

  “We need to know the whereabouts of a little boy,” said Sister Isabella. “His name’s Samuel, Samuel Napier.”

  “I’m sorry, Madam...” said Rinaldo.

  “Sister,” said Sister Isabella, correcting him.

  Rinaldo raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Sister, but I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  Robert tensed. “Are you trying to tell us you’ve never heard of him, because we know different?”

  “What my father’s saying is yes, we know Samuel, but no, we won’t tell you where he is,” said Dianora.

  Thorne screwed on a silencer, and aimed lower. “I bet I can get you to talk.”

  Robert leaned close to Rinaldo. “We don’t have time to fuck around,” he growled. “If you know something, tell us, or I’ll have my partner shoot Dianora.”

  Rinaldo’s countenance changed from
grandfather to tyrant in less time than it took for Robert to get out the words. “I said no, Mr. Veil, and I mean what I say.”

  Robert turned and nodded to Thorne, who immediately shot Dianora in the left thigh.

  Rinaldo jumped to his feet. “Bastardo!”

  Robert pushed him back down. Dianora sprawled out on the couch, flailing up and down in pain.

  Sister Isabella said a short prayer. “Tell us what we need to know, my child! Tell us!”

  Dianora raised up, tears in her eyes. “Go to hell!” Thorne raised the gun to Dianora’s head. “You go first.” Robert grabbed Rinaldo by the collar. “Where’s Samuel?”

  “There are forces involved in this you can’t stop. Power in places you know nothing of, and I…” Rinaldo began.

  Robert turned to Thorne. “Shoot her again! Kill her!”

  “Okay, okay!” Rinaldo bellowed.

  Robert held up a hand. Thorne shot Dianora anyway, this time in the right kneecap. Rinaldo screamed louder than his daughter, reached under his desk and pulled out a revolver. Robert heard footsteps running through the house. Thorne shot Rinaldo in the chest as he fired. Sister Isabella stepped in front of Thorne, took the shot to the face, and dropped to the floor. Dianora reached under the couch cushions. Thorne hit her hard in the head with the butt of her gun, knocking her out cold.

  Robert leaned over Rinaldo. “Tell us where he’s at!” Rinaldo opened his mouth, but only blood came seeping out.

  Two armed men burst inside the den. Thorne killed both of them.

  More footsteps rumbled their way. Robert went to Rinaldo’s desk and rifled through the papers. Thorne ran to the door and sent a stream of bullets down the dark hallway.

  Robert poured through the papers and files, but nothing caught his attention. He dropped the tranquilizer rifle, pulled out two 9mm automatics and joined the fight with Thorne. Soon, they managed to push the guards back into the main house. Robert shot out a window and dove through it. Thorne followed.

  Outside, Robert’s men came dropping over the wall, and soon the guards, outnumbered by firepower, jumped the wall and fled.

  Father Kong dropped over the wall and ran over. “Where’s Sister Isabella?” he asked.

  Robert took a deep breath. “She’s dead.” He ordered his men to secure the area, while he, Thorne and Father Kong went back inside. The priest fell to his knees over Sister Isabella, and prayed.

  “Father, she’s gone,” said Robert. “I need you to look over these papers and tell us if anything sparks a clue.” Father Kong stood, slowly walked over to the desk, and began looking at the papers. Thorne checked Dianora. “She’s still breathing, barely, and bleeding badly.”

  “Do what you can to stop the bleeding. We’ll call an ambulance on the way out,” said Robert.

  “There’s nothing here,” said Father Kong.

  Robert rushed over. “There has to be, keep looking.”

  “It’s useless. I don’t see anything we can use.”

  “Maybe we should take Dianora,” said Robert.

  “She’d never make the trip,” said Thorne. “She’s almost dead now.” Robert cursed. “Then let’s go.”

  “We can’t leave Sister Isabella,” said Father Kong. “We have to take her with us.”

  Robert looked into the priest’s eyes. He agreed. Her presence would raise too many questions. They grabbed the nun and took her body outside. One of Robert’s men hot-wired a truck. They piled inside and drove back to the cars, where they put Sister Isabella in the trunk, and headed back to the villa.

  57

  Cardinal Polletto sat alone in one of Bracciano castle’s large, exquisite dining rooms, enjoying a late dinner of roast lamb, salad and red wine. He finished, savoring the brief sojourn into gourmet delight, then brought his attention and focus back to the matter at hand. He made his way upstairs to his next assignment, confronting Samuel and his brothers for the first time.

  Although the effort had been rife with setbacks and delays, the satisfaction of knowing it was almost over brought a sense of impending relief to the cardinal. After all the years of planning and preparation, he was about to deal a death-blow to the Church, and as a bonus he’d get something he very much looked forward to, the death of Cardinal Maximilian.

  Hands behind his back, Cardinal Polletto glided across the polished wooden floor, head high, eyes fixed on the last room to the left. He stopped at the door and waited. The irony that Samuel could soon be his master intrigued him. He pushed the door open.

  On the floor, like three bundles of clothes, lay Samuel and his brothers, huddled together in the dim candlelight. All three sat up when a creaking board unceremoniously announced the cardinal’s presence.

  “Who’s there?” Samuel asked, with a command in his voice that surprised the cardinal.

  Cardinal Polletto lit a few more candles, and the boys’ faces were more visible.

  “Cardinal Polletto?” asked Samuel, surprised.

  “Yes,” answered the cardinal, “it’s me.” Samuel stood, and slowly approached, the other boys behind him.

  “You look well, Samuel,” said the cardinal. “And I understand you’ve been quite active.”

  Samuel’s maturity jumped out at the cardinal. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “If you’re here, then you know why we’ve been taken.” The authority in his voice was staggering for a ten year old. The cardinal felt himself flinch.

  “That’s why I’m here, to tell you why you’re here, for this celebration,” said the cardinal.

  Felipe eased closer. “Célébration?”

  Cardinal Polletto nodded. “We, Felipe, depuris te. For you. Tout le te. All of you.”

  “Te dire sciocchezze,” said Eduardo, now shoulder-to-shoulder with his American brother. “You talk nonsense.” Samuel smiled. “We’re tired of the bullshit. So tell us the truth, or leave us alone.”

  Cardinal Polletto stared at the three, each of them defiant, determined. “Let’s have a seat,” invited the cardinal, pulling up a chair.

  The three boys remained standing directly in front of him. “What if I were to tell you, that each of you are royalty, destined for greatness?” he said, splattering his words in French, Italian and English. Neither boy moved or said a word; they stared back at the cardinal, eyes focused, concentrating. “Each one of you has been sanctified since birth, to change history and usher in a new world. I know it will be difficult to understand at first, but over time your minds will be illuminated.”

  “How can we change history?” asked Samuel. “We’re children.”

  “Yes, for now, but you’ll grow up to be men soon enough. Before that time, there’s much to be done, and much you have to learn.”

  “What about our parents?” asked Eduardo, in Italian.

  “They’re not our parents,” answered Samuel.

  Cardinal Polletto smiled. Yes, you’re the one, the first born. “That’s correct, they’re not. Your real parents are here, in Italy. Eduardo and Felipe have already met your father, Father Charles Tolbert.” Samuel’s chin dropped, his eyes glued to the floor. He almost lost his balance, but caught himself. “How is that possible?” he asked, his voice cracked.

  Cardinal Polletto watched Samuel as the truth did its work, bringing the boy under control. “I’ll explain it to you later, when you’re ready.” Samuel looked up, hate burning in his pupils. “What about my mother?”

  “Alison Napier is of no consequence at this point in your life. None of the people you grew up with mean anything as we move forward.

  You’ll have to learn to deal with life without them.” Samuel’s stern stance weakened. Felipe and Eduardo’s jaws quivered. Cardinal Polletto smiled. “Now, now, all of you have a new family now, a true family that will never leave or forsake you. I promise.” Samuel sniffled, his eyes and cheeks glistening with tears. “I don’t want a new family, I want my mother.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Then I won’t participate. None of us w
ill.” The boys backed up and sat down.

  The cardinal’s first impulse was to rush over, snatch and shake them into submission, but one look into Samuel’s eyes told him that would only drive them further away.

  “I know this is a shock, and believe me, I understand. Anyone faced with such greatness would be foolish to run blindly into it.” Samuel rocked back and forth. “We don’t care about greatness. We want our old lives back.”

  Cardinal Polletto stood, walked just short of the three, and stood over them, their faces determined, intense. “I can’t force you to do what you don’t want to,” he said. “But your mother, Alison, will be disappointed.

  All of your surrogate parents will be.”

  “I thought you said they weren’t important,” said Samuel.

  “Not as important as your destiny,” the cardinal answered.

  “I don’t believe you,” snapped Samuel, defiant. “My mother would never agree to this.”

  Cardinal Polletto smiled, pulled a cell phone from inside his robe and dialed. Alison Napier answered and he handed the phone to Samuel.

  “Hello,” said Samuel, somewhat sheepish.

  Cardinal Polletto watched the tears roll down Samuel’s cheeks.

  Felipe and Eduardo looked on, curious. Samuel hung up and gave back the phone.

  “You see,” said the cardinal, “everything will work out fine. Come, let me show you the area we’ve set up.”

  The cardinal extended a hand to Samuel, who took it and pulled himself up. Cardinal Polletto sighed with relief. Samuel’s acquiescence quieted the others, and like sheep, they followed his lead.

  Yes, your time will come, but today, follow me.

  58

  Samuel wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve and looked up at Cardinal Polletto, who gave him an encouraging nod and smile. Moron!