by David Archer
They all looked at one another, and then back at Gary. “So, what prompted the whistle?” Ken asked. “We all thought you were on to something.”
“Yeah, well, don't sell me short,” Gary said. “You're gonna freak when I read you the actual prophecy itself, are you ready? Here goes.” He pointed at a section of text that was in italics on the screen. “And when my hand shall be stretched out to touch the whole earth, when that hand is prepared to hold all in its grasp, but shall drop into its brother a portion for itself, then shall my hand be false and full of sin. And there shall arise from the city on the mountain one to throw down my hand, and to punish and destroy my false hand, and his name shall be Sam-per-shar, he who shines.”
There was nothing but silence in the room. Each of them looked at each other, but no one dared to speak. A minute passed, and then another, and finally it was Indie who broke the stillness with her voice.
“The city on the mountain? We live in Denver, the mile high city in the Rocky Mountains. And the name, is anybody here going to say that it's just a coincidence? Sam Prichard — Sam-per-shar?”
Ken was shaking his head back and forth. “Well, I think we can see what it was about you that shook him up. If he truly studied those prophecies, then somewhere along the line he would've seen this one. Knowing you were from Denver, and having a name so close to the one in this prophecy? Hell, man, that would send chills down my spine if I were him.”
Sam shrugged. “One of the things we been going on all this time is that none of the prophecies of Shamash had shown any sign of coming true, so I'm not going to go putting a lot of stock into this one, no matter how it looks. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing about me that should've scared Chandler was the fact that he was messing with my country. This isn't helping. This isn’t giving us anything we need to figure out how to stop everything he put into motion. Let's get it done, come on — we've got to get some idea of who it is we’re actually trying to stop.”
Gary and Indie went back to work, letting their computers scan through thousands of pages of documents and websites in search of any information that might tell them what their next move should be. Even as good as the computers were, there was so much data to sift through that they knew it was going to take a while. Sam and Ken sat down and tried to think of new angles of their own, but they weren’t having any luck.
Sam took out his phone and called Harry. The old man answered on the second ring, and Sam could hear the smile on his face through the line.
“Sam, boy, it's good to hear from you again. Where are we?”
Sam smiled back through the phone. “Hi, Harry,” he said. “We're making a little progress, I think. The Pope has agreed to some heightened security measures, and they're rounding up just about everyone who could conceivably get to him right now. The Italian government has set up facial recognition, looking for any of his household employees who decide to try to flee the country. With any luck, we'll have some ideas soon of who it is we’re looking for. At the very least, I think we've managed to put a kink into Chandler's plans.”
“Glad to hear it,” Harry said. “Every minute that goes by makes me worry that we've missed something important.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sam replied. “Hey, listen, remember a few days ago, you called and said how it almost seemed like Chandler was a little bit scared that I was going to get to him? Well, Gary ran across something interesting. There's an old prophecy of Shamash that actually says something about a man from the city on the mountain who would come to stop somebody who was trying to do what Shamash wanted, but for his own personal gain. Strangely enough, the name that prophecy gave to that person sounds a lot like my name.”
Harry burst out laughing. “Now, wouldn't that be a kick in the pants? For him to see the person coming after him in the very prophecies he was trying to use to justify his own actions. That's amazing, Sam.”
Sam chuckled along with him. “Yeah, I kinda thought you'd get a kick out of that. So how are you doing? Everything going okay there?”
“Oh, I'm fine. I'm driving the nurses here crazy, because they seem to have this wild notion that I'm going to do things their way, rather than the way I want to do them. I can't imagine how they could be that silly, but they are. And here comes one of them, right now, who seems to be under the impression that she's about to give me a bath. And do you know what? I think this is once when I just might be cooperative. You let me know if you need anything, Sam, boy, but I'm gonna have to go for now.” The line went dead.
Sam laughed, and then had to explain to everyone what was so funny. All three of the others got a chuckle out of it, but then they got back to work. Gary found a few more prophetic references to the bright one, but nothing is clear as the first. Indie kept coming up with more and more items that appeared to be Chandler's handiwork, but still wasn't getting any closer to knowing who the infamous M could be. They were all getting impatient, but nothing seemed to be going in their favor.
And then Sam's phone rang. He picked it up to see Spencer's number, and answered quickly.
“Prichard,” he said.
“Sam, I think we've got something,” Spencer said rapidly. “The Commandant just got a call from Rome's chief of police, and they have someone in custody right now. It's a man who has been a part of the Prefecture for more than a dozen years, but the moment the roundup was announced, he left like his tail was on fire. Went straight to the airport and tried to buy a ticket to New York City, but he was picked up and brought in for questioning. The Commandant suggested we turn him over to you, first. They have him at the Questura Centrale. That's the main police station, their headquarters. You can go there and ask for the Capo della Polizia. Just tell them your name, they know who you are.”
“That's great, John,” Sam said. “What's this fellow's name? The one they picked up?”
“Oh, right,” Spencer said. “Just a second, I've got it here. Okay, here it is. His name is Harold Slater. He was an American priest, spent more than forty years as a priest in Albany, New York. Came here back in oh-three and has been working in the Vatican in one position or another, ever since.”Sam scribbled down all of the information Spencer had given him. “Okay, thanks, John, I'm on it.”
He quickly told the others what Spencer had said, then looked at Ken. “Let's go,” he said. “I'll be good cop, you can be bad.”
Ken grinned and got to his feet. “Let's do it!” he said.
10
Sam and Ken made it downstairs and to the paid parking lot where they kept the car in just a few minutes, and Sam let Ken drive since he was much more familiar with the city.
“I'm frankly surprised that the capo is going to even let you near the suspect, let alone question him,” Ken said. “They're not usually that open to joint investigations, especially with the US. The only thing I can figure is that they don't want to piss off His Holiness.”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably not. I would imagine it gets a little nerve-racking, having God's right-hand man sitting right in your lap, all the time. I can imagine they're a little cautious about getting him riled up.”
“Well, I certainly would be. Don't get me wrong—personally, I don't think the Catholics have figured out that they're not exactly following Christian teaching. It flat amazes me that so many people could go to a church and read the Bible, and never quite notice that a lot of what they're being taught is in direct contradiction to what the scriptures say, but then, I've never been a Catholic, so maybe there are things about it I'm not seeing. I can't say I know everything, so maybe somebody else does.”
Sam shrugged. “I'm pretty sure I don't. I know what I believe and that's good enough for me, but I don't claim to have any answers for anyone else. All I want to do is get this case over with, and then go home and retire, again. I've got a band back home that's just hoping I get back in time for the next gig we've got planned, at some new place that's opening up. Just think, when I get back to the microphone, I may just decide
never to stop singing again!”
“Hmph. Probably the smartest move you make. Get as far away from this racket as you possibly can.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I'd be lying if I didn't say I was ready. I've got a wife and little girl who need me, and I'd like to be around for them. One of my biggest fears, every time Harry's tapped me for one of these missions, is that I would die and never get to see them again.”
“I understand that,” Ken said. “I wish I had known my family, and able to be the father that Joellyn needed, but the truth is that I just couldn't have handled trying to balance the two lives. When I was recruited, they made it clear that the country needed me so badly that any sacrifice was worthwhile. I fell for that, hook, line and sinker. They had me, and I think they knew it.” He glanced at Sam, then turned his eyes back to the road in front of them. “I'm not going to tell you your country doesn't need you, Sam, obviously it does. You've already saved it more than once, and here you are working on it again. What I am going to say, though, is that you aren't the only one who can do that. When this one is over, take your chance to get out. Walk away, don't look back, just say goodbye to Harry and everything that's part of his world. That's the best advice I can give you, and probably the best advice you've ever had in your life.”
Sam sat there quietly as the car rolled through the streets of Rome. He looked around him at the incredible mixture of structures, some of them thousands of years old, some of them as new as last week. Rome was an amazing city, but Sam was wishing he had never seen it at all.
They pulled up at the questura, and found a place to park the car. They got out together and entered the building, asking a uniformed officer where to find the office of the capo. He gave them directions, and they found the office with no trouble.
An officer greeted them as they entered, and Sam said, “I was told to come here to question a suspect who may be involved in the plot to assassinate the pope. My name is Sam Prichard, and I am with United States Homeland Security.”
The officer looked at him strangely, and then shrugged his shoulders. “I know nothing of any suspect who is trying to assassinate His Holiness. Are you sure you have come to the right place?”
Sam looked at Ken, who looked just as confused as he was. He turned back to the officer. “I was contacted by a man from our embassy to the Holy See, and he told me that you had a suspect in custody. A priest named Harold Slater. They told me to ask the chief of police, because I was supposed to interrogate this man.”
“Just one moment,” the officer said, and picked up the telephone. He spoke rapidly into it in Italian, glancing at Sam more than once as he did so. After a moment, he nodded into the telephone, then hung up and turned back to Sam. “I am sorry, Signore,” he said. “We have no such suspect, and no such person by that name. I just asked our inspector general if we know anything about a plan to assassinate the pope, and he assures me that we do not. I wish I could help you, but I don't know where to turn.”
Sam and Ken looked at each other again, and then Sam bolted out the door. Ken was right on his heels, and caught up with him by the time he got back to the ground floor and the front doors. They got to the car at the same time, and jumped inside. “Go, go, go!” Sam shouted. “It was a trick of some sort, to get us away from the room.” He had his phone out and was already dialing Indie. The phone rang twice, and then she answered.
“Sam?” She started to say something more, but Sam cut her off.
“Grab Gary,” he said hurriedly, “and get the two of you out of that room, right now! We were sent on a wild goose chase, you've got to get out of there, now!”
“We what? Oh, Sam, oh my God…”
“Hurry, babe, get out of there now! If you can get into another room, go there, if not then start down the stairs. Don't use the elevators, anybody coming up would be coming that way. Hurry, go—Ken and I will be there as fast as we can. Go to the bistro for now, we'll meet you there.”
“Okay, we're going! What about the computers? Oh, never mind, we're leaving them. Come on, Gary, we've gotta go now! Sam, I love you and I'll call you when we get to the bistro.” She hung up, and Sam knew she was probably dragging Gary away from his precious equipment.
The car was racing through the streets, and Ken was surprised that they hadn't picked up a police escort, with the way he was screeching around corners. It'd taken them almost fifteen minutes to get to the police station, but he was trying to cut it down to ten on the way back. He kept his foot down on the accelerator, and was amazing Sam with his ability to weave in and out of traffic, avoid hitting cars who had the right-of-way in every intersection they came to, and generally avoid killing them both as they raced back to the hotel.
They slid to a stop in front of the bistro, and Sam was out of the car in a split second. He dashed inside, but there was no sign of Indie or Gary, so he spun and rushed out again. They ran into the hotel together, and Sam began rushing up the stairs while Ken took the elevator. The elevator was old and rather slow, so they actually got to their room at the same time.
The door was open, and there was no sign of either Gary or Indie inside. There was, however, a woman sitting at the table where the computers were set up. She turned to face them as they entered, and they saw the gun in her hand instantly.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she said.
“Natasha?” Sam asked in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here? Where is Indie, and Gary?”
“They're in the bedroom,” came another voice, and Sam spun in shock. There, just behind the door into the room, stood Grayson Chandler. Sam could see that his chest appeared to be heavily bandaged, but he was certainly alive. “At the moment, they're alive. Whether they stay that way or not is largely dependent on what you decide to do in the next few moments.”
Kenneth Long was standing just behind Sam, his own eyes wide and unbelieving. “Natasha, Sam,” he said. “She sold us out.”
“I suppose you could say that,” Natasha said. “I prefer to think of it as choosing the winning side. As Chandler and I were having our little talk, he told me just how complete his plans were, and that there was only one little detail he hadn't quite settled on yet.”
Sam scowled at her. “Let me guess,” he said. “That little detail was the final identity of the woman that he intended to put in charge, the woman who would appear to be some great Savior of the world, while he pulled the strings from behind.”
“You're close,” she said. “He had someone in mind, already, but it is absolutely amazing what a man will barter for his own life. No, the only little detail that wasn't settled was the matter of when all of this would be launched, and since you were already racing up here to try to stop things, I made him a simple proposition. His life in return for putting me in that top spot, and since he was ready to launch everything, anyway, we simply decided that now is the time to do it.”
Sam's mind was racing, as he put together all the little details that had to fit into the scenario in front of his eyes. “Spencer,” he said. “Spencer was one of yours, all along, right?”
Chandler nodded. “John has been with me for a couple of years now,” he said. “Ironically, I had called him just a few hours earlier to tell him to keep his ears open for any investigators who might be snooping around the Vatican. Imagine how surprised we were when the people you called ended up calling him. He immediately figured you'd be listening in on the conversation, so he set out a bait by asking old Carlo to meet with him, knowing full well that you'd show up. Well, one of you, at least. Then he just played it by ear, telling you what you wanted to hear so that he’d be able to send you in whatever direction we wanted you sent when the time came.”
“And Carlo? Is he one of yours, too?”
“No, not at all. He was just a tired old man, who didn't know who to trust.”
“Was?” Sam asked. “You killed him?”
Chandler shrugged his shoulders. “Didn't have to. The thought that someone he knew might be trying to hurt the
pope was more than he could take. He had a heart attack an hour after you saw him last, and I'm afraid he didn't make it.”
“Okay, so let's just cut to the chase. What you want? What will it take to bargain for my wife's safety?”
Chandler smiled. “Well, I could just make you beg. Or, I could ask Natasha to give you a taste of the same treatment she gave me, that would be pretty poetic justice, wouldn't it? But don't worry, I'm not quite that vengeful. I know that all of this is nothing more than a test of my faithfulness and loyalty to Shamash, so I don't hold any grudges. No, it's a lot simpler than that, Sam. I need you on my side. I need you in particular working for me.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Sam, let's not play games. If you refuse, then all four of you are going to die. That should be pretty obvious. On the other hand, if you cooperate with me, you and your wife will live and I'll even give you that computer nerd kid. I'm sure you can find a way to use his talents, so we'll put him under you. The only one who has to die is Long. And don't worry, I'm not going to make you kill him. Trust me when I say I'm going to enjoy doing that one myself.”
Sam stared at Chandler for a moment, then looked at Ken. The two of them eyeballed each other for a few seconds, and then Sam turned back to Chandler. “How do I know you'll keep your word? How do I know my wife isn't dead already?”
Chandler looked at Natasha. “Would you do the honors, my dear?”
“My pleasure,” Natasha said. “Just one moment.” She got up from the chair she been sitting in and walked over to Sam's bedroom door. She pushed it open, and waved for someone inside to come out.
Gary and Indie came out of the room, followed by two men who were holding pistols aimed at them. Sam walked calmly over to his wife and put his arms around her, then kissed her gently. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, and then he winked.
Indie's eyes went wide, but she didn't say anything. Sam turned away from her and looked at Chandler.