The Secret Cardinal

by Tom Grace

  “You were present at the execution this morning, yes?” Peng asked.

  “I was part of the detail that brought the foreign prisoner down to the yard.”

  “Were you armed?”

  “Yes, with a pistol.”

  “Then why are you still alive?” Peng asked pointedly.

  “Excuse me?” Au-Yang replied, puzzled.

  “I understand that anyone in the yard with a weapon was killed.”

  “I left the yard after the prisoners were executed. I was not feeling well,” Au-Yang explained, placing a hand on his stomach.

  “Your first execution?”

  Au-Yang nodded sheepishly.

  “Where were the prisoners executed?” Peng asked.

  Au-Yang looked at the ground and found a pair of black stains on the gravel. “Here, and here.”

  “And where was the truck parked, the one that fled with the two prisoners?”

  Au-Yang pointed to a spot several feet away.

  “Did anything unusual happen while you were present?”

  “Before he was shot, the old one said something I didn’t understand,” Au-Yang replied.

  “What did he say?”

  “I’m not sure, it wasn’t Chinese. I think it was English, but I don’t really know.”

  “Was he speaking to the foreigner?” Peng asked.

  “I don’t think so. He couldn’t have known the man was there.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The prisoners were brought out separately, and both wore hoods,” Au-Yang explained. “They never saw each other.”

  “And everyone else who was present was Chinese?”

  “Yes.”

  Peng tried to imagine the scene and empathized with the young guard. Peng had killed before, but he did so only when necessary and took no joy in it. Capital punishment, he felt, should be reserved for only the most heinous murderers, and he found it troubling when it was applied as punishment for political crimes.

  “That’s all for now. You may return to your duties.” Peng dismissed Au-Yang, then turned to Kwan. “Please show me where the prisoners were held.”

  “This way,” Kwan replied.

  The interior of the prison was eerily quiet. The inmates were locked down, the guards extraordinarily vigilant. Kwan led Peng down long gray corridors, their footsteps echoing off the smooth hard surfaces. They stopped in front of a heavy steel door stenciled with the number 342.

  “This cell is where the foreign prisoner was held,” Kwan announced.

  “Open it,” Peng commanded.

  Kwan radioed the request to the monitoring station and released the door. Peng peered into the dark cell, then stepped inside and shuddered. The cell was cold, as if the thick concrete was siphoning the heat from his body. He sat on the floor, trying to understand the mind of the previous occupant. Even with the door fully open, the cell enveloped him like a tomb. Peng wondered how anyone could retain their sanity locked inside this room for any length of time, and yet Kilkenny had volunteered to do so.

  “What are you doing in there?” an irritable voice demanded from the corridor.

  Peng turned and saw that Kwan had stepped away from the doorway. The silhouette of a different man filled the opening.

  “Thinking,” Peng replied.

  “Unless you prefer to remain in there with your thoughts for an extended period of time, I suggest you come out now.”

  “Of course,” Peng said.

  Peng rose and walked out into the corridor where he met Liu and a pair of guards. The three men looked flushed from exertion. Liu stood slightly taller than Peng and glowered at the younger man.

  “This cell and the one that housed Yin Daoming should be searched thoroughly,” Peng suggested.

  “For what?”

  “Anything that would have allowed the two prisoners to communicate—something very small that could have been smuggled in without arousing Lieutenant Kwan’s suspicions. I can think of no other reason Kilkenny would place himself in that cell other than to communicate his intent to Yin. And this morning, Yin certainly knew something was going to happen. His last words were in English—I assume a message to Kilkenny.”

  “If a device was smuggled in, wouldn’t the foreigner have taken it with him?” Liu asked dismissively.

  “Perhaps, but that possibility shouldn’t deter us from looking for evidence. Are you not seeking the source of the RPGs?”

  “We are, but the priority is the manhunt.”

  “Of course,” Peng agreed, “but in our zeal to recapture Yin, we must not sacrifice our investigation of the broader conspiracy.”

  “Close that cell,” Liu ordered Kwan. “No one is to enter this cell or Yin’s until after a forensics team has completed a thorough search. Peng, come with me.”

  As the junior man, Peng trailed Liu by a half step, and with a pair of guards in tow, they moved down the corridors in silence. Liu was fuming, though Peng suspected it had more to do with the escape than his brief investigation. When they reached the warden’s office, Liu dismissed the guards.

  “Report,” Liu demanded of Peng.

  “The foreign prisoner and the woman known as Captain Jiao have been identified as Nolan Kilkenny and Roxanne Tao—both of the United States.”

  “So the Americans are involved with the Vatican in this?”

  “A strong possibility,” Peng replied, “but the level of that involvement is not clear. Nor is their motive. Of course, Beijing is asking what the Americans could hope to gain from this provocative course of action.”

  “Has Beijing moved to enhance border security?” Liu asked.

  “Yes. All border crossings are temporarily closed until sufficient forces are in place to process each individual and search every vehicle. Units of the army and air force are patrolling our borders with North Korea, Russia, and Mongolia. Army units have also been stationed at all transportation hubs, and all travelers within the country are required to provide identity papers. Coastal defense is on heightened-alert status and has stepped up patrols in our territorial waters.

  “Beijing has also requested assistance from Mongolia in preventing Yin’s escape. Photographs of Yin, Tao, and Kilkenny have been delivered to the authorities in Ulaanbaatar, along with a list of their crimes. Our formal request for immediate extradition of these criminals was accompanied by a diplomatic note indicating cooperation in this matter would have a strong bearing on the foreign trade and investment package currently under consideration before the central committee.”

  “Effectively closing that avenue of escape,” Liu concluded, pleased.

  “The local army unit is working with Chifeng police to cordon off the city,” Peng continued, “assuming that’s where they went after fleeing the prison and that they may still be there.”

  “Are they also searching the surrounding countryside and rounding up known and suspected members of Yin’s cult?”

  “A system of beliefs that survives intact for two millennia and boasts over a billion followers is hardly a cult,” Peng offered. “But yes, those with ties to the underground church are being located for questioning.”

  Liu appeared satisfied with Peng’s report. “I was informed you are familiar with Kilkenny and Tao.”

  Peng nodded. “That is why I was sent to assist you.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Until a few years ago, Kilkenny was a junior officer in the American Navy’s special forces. He is presently a businessman involved in technology research and investment. He is also connected to the CIA, but tangentially and not in the agency’s direct employ. He was married briefly to an astronaut who died this past August. I met him during the previous summer, when he was investigating the incident involving their space shuttle. In my opinion, Nolan Kilkenny is an honorable man.”

  “Honorable men do not break criminals out of prison.”

  “I suspect he does not view Yin as a criminal—they share the same faith.”

  “And Tao?”r />
  “She is a spy,” Peng said matter-of-factly. “Much of her background is unclear, but she now runs an investment company with ties to both Kilkenny and the CIA. Several years ago, under another identity, she operated a widespread espionage network in China. That network was dismantled, but she eluded capture and the Sixth Bureau lost track of her. I uncovered her during my surveillance of Kilkenny. If possible, Beijing would like Tao taken alive.”

  “And the others?” Liu asked.

  “Their fates are left to your discretion.”

  37

  CHIFENG, CHINA

  After Yin’s mass, the Night Stalkers completed flight prep on the BATs while the team members still clad in civilian clothes changed for the trip across the border. The children, much to Kilkenny’s discomfort, huddled around the doorway of the yurt, peeking in with rapt fascination as he changed. He further entertained them by demonstrating the chameleonlike characteristics of his SEALskin suit, changing from a solid dark gray to camouflage stripes.

  “Having fun?” Tao asked, drawn into the yurt by the children’s laughter.

  “They are. At least my striptease was only PG, or I would have had to post a guard.”

  “Or charge admission.”

  “I can’t think of anyone who would pay to see me naked. How’s your suit?”

  Tao did a slow spin, allowing Kilkenny to view her at all angles. The sleek nanotech fabric wrapped her lithe curves like a second skin.

  “It’s a good fit,” Tao replied.

  “That’s an understatement. I bet the tailor who put that outfit together never worked with a set of measurements quite like yours. Slip on a pair of stiletto heels and you’d be set for a late night of after-hours clubbing.”

  Tao glowered at Kilkenny. “You first.”

  Bishop Yin appeared in the doorway looking puzzled, his suit bunched up in places around his light frame and Ke Li’s cross dangling from his neck.

  “Have I put on this uniform correctly?” Yin asked.

  “There’s really only one way to wear it,” Kilkenny said as he looked over Yin’s suit. “Unfortunately, it’s not a one-size-fits-all, and I guessed a little too big for you. I apologize if it’s uncomfortable, but it will keep you warm.”

  “Then I will be fine.”

  “We’ll find you a good tailor once we’re out of China,” Kilkenny promised. “Your cross might be a problem when we’re airborne. Would you like me to stow it for you?”

  Yin placed a protective hand over the symbol of his faith. “No, I wish to wear it.”

  “Then let’s get it inside your suit so it won’t bat around in the wind.”

  Tao loosened Yin’s collar and carefully slipped the cross inside. It barely telegraphed through the loose fabric covering Yin’s torso. Tao placed a reassuring hand on his chest over the shrouded symbol.

  “That should protect it,” Tao said.

  The bishop folded his hands over hers, “And it will protect us, my child.”

  Outside, they heard the sound of hoofbeats racing toward the encampment.

  “Stay with him,” Kilkenny said as he unholstered his pistol and slipped through the doorway.

  The hoofbeats stopped abruptly, replaced with orders shouted harshly in Chinese. The horses whinnied and snorted, sounding winded from the ride. In the darkness beyond the halo of campfire light, Kilkenny saw movement in the shadows. The forms of two men with their arms clasped behind their heads grew more distinct. They were Asians and dressed in civilian clothing. Gates and four warriors followed closely behind, weapons trained on the unexpected arrivals.

  Recognizing the two men, the patriarch of the clan rushed toward them, his hands waving frantically in the air.

  “You catching any of that?” Kilkenny called out.

  “The head man just vouched for these guys,” Chow answered. “That good enough for us?”

  Kilkenny holstered his pistol. “Yeah, cut ‘em loose.”

  Weapons were lowered, and Chow informed the men of their release. The patriarch escorted them to the fire and ordered others to fetch water for the riders. Both men were caked in dust from a hard ride, their horses frothy around the muzzle. The men brightened when Yin and Tao emerged from the yurt. After they had drunk their fill, the patriarch questioned them. The exchange flowed quickly, with the men talking rapidly.

  “What are they saying?” Kilkenny asked Tao softly.

  “Apparently we got out of Chifeng just in time. The whole city is locked down—no one going in or out. The local police with army backup are running house-to-house searches. Phones, TV, radio—all shut down. Curfews. They’ve imposed martial law as part of their effort to apprehend a group of very dangerous criminals who escaped from the prison.”

  “That would be us,” Kilkenny said.

  “Before the lines were cut,” Tao continued, “they received word that all border crossings are closed. Also, you and I and the bishop are the latest additions to Mongolia’s Most Wanted.”

  “Would they really arrest us?” Kilkenny asked.

  “If the Chinese asked them to, yes,” Tao replied. “When you’re landlocked between two very powerful neighbors, you learn to get along.”

  “Is there a problem?” Yin asked.

  “Yes,” Tao replied. “We planned to go north and take you out through Mongolia, but that way is now closed to us.”

  “Which means we go to Plan B,” Kilkenny added.

  “Plan B?” Yin questioned, unfamiliar with the phrase.

  “Our second choice,” Kilkenny explained. “It’s a much longer flight, but it should still work.”

  “A longer flight,” Yin repeated, a childlike twinkle in his eyes. “Having never flown before, I think I would like that.”

  “Then I hope you find our BATs comfortable, because we’ll be spending a few nights in them.”

  Tao motioned for Kilkenny to quiet down as she tried to glean more news from the riders. The patriarch nodded his head gravely and looked at Kilkenny and Yin.

  “What is it?” Kilkenny asked.

  “Helicopter searches. They’re looking for camps like this one, any place where we could have found refuge. And they’re arresting suspected Roman Catholics.”

  “Then we’re out of here,” Kilkenny decided. He looked at Gates and the team. “Time to saddle up. We need to put some distance between these kind folks and ourselves. Roxanne, please express our sincere thanks to our host and to these brave gentlemen for this information. They may have just saved Bishop Yin’s life.”

  “Permit me,” Yin said.

  Starting with the patriarch, Yin bowed deeply to each of the men and offered what Kilkenny could only imagine was a glowing tribute at the end of which he blessed them, then all who dwelled in the house of their host.

  “I don’t know what he just said,” Kilkenny whispered to Tao, “but clearly the man can work a room.”

  “You have no idea.” She also was moved by Yin’s eloquence.

  Kilkenny showed Yin how to don the balaclava and adjust his helmet. Tao slipped into the rear seat of the BAT piloted by Han and held her hand out for Yin. As the bishop carefully climbed aboard, Kilkenny took the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Team Comms on,” Kilkenny said clearly, activating the short-range receivers in the rest of the teams’ helmets. “Listen up, people. Our Mongolian egress is a no-go, so we are switching to Flight Plan Marco Polo.”

  One after another, the three Night Stalkers confirmed Plan Marco Polo and tried to load the coordinates into their navigation computers.

  “Uh, Nolan?” Han called out. “Our NAVCOM is negative on Plan Marco Polo.”

  “That’s because we’re going to make it up as we go along. I have a few tentative waypoints roughed in that I’ll upload to you once we’re airborne. For now, just head west.”

  “Why do you call your plan Marco Polo?” Yin asked.

  “He was the most famous Westerner to travel the Silk Road. Since he successfully returned to Italy from China, I find h
im inspirational.”

  As Kilkenny spoke, the pilots wound up the engines and completed their preflight checks.

  “Those who traveled the Silk Road did so mostly by day,” Yin offered, “but I recall one group who made the journey west traveling only at night. They were guided by a star.”

  Kilkenny laughed. “Then you will be very pleased to know that we will be guided by a constellation of twenty-four stars. They’re not as bright as the one that guided the magi, but ours are accurate to within a few centimeters.”

  “Twenty-four is eight threes—a very lucky number.”

  “I can take a hint. People, Plan Marco Polo is now Plan Magi.”

  One by one, the three BATs lifted off and quickly gained speed.

  Yin craned his head back, watching the nomad’s camp disappear behind them. Tao noticed that his hand pressed tightly to his chest.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I am fine,” Yin replied.

  “Terry,” Kilkenny said to the pilot, “once things settle down, I’d like to get a little time behind the stick and brush up my piloting skills. We have a lot of flying ahead of us.”

  “When we’re over a nice flat stretch of nothing, I’ll run you through a refresher course.”

  AFTER FLYING SEVERAL HOURS under a clear, moonless sky, Kilkenny watched the grasslands gradually succumb to the Gobi Desert. He was piloting the aircraft, and behind him Tao slept and Yin stared out with rapt fascination at the stars. Han busied himself with checking various systems while keeping an eye on Kilkenny to verify that he was on course to the next waypoint.

  “Anybody out there sniffing around for us?” Kilkenny asked.

  “No, but when my kids are this quiet, I get nervous,” Han replied. “You got any?”

  “Any what?”

  “Children. I have two boys and a girl—all under six. My house is a zoo. Those kids back there really latched onto you, so I figured you must have some of your own.”

  Kilkenny thought for a moment before replying. “My son was to be born on the first of November. He died with my wife in August.”

  “I’m sorry,” Han said empathetically, imagining Kilkenny’s loss.

  Kilkenny shrugged. “Look, I’m going to let Rome know what we’re up to. If you need me, just send a ping or rap on the side of my helmet.”