Targeted Killing (The Vatican Knights Book 11)

by Rick Jones

  “That’s right. That has always been Kimball’s concern. And that’s why he’s been staying under the radar all this time,” said Father Essex. “He knew this would happen should it be discovered that he was still alive.”

  “And we have a team in place in Malta, this I know.”

  The Jesuits nodded.

  “But we don’t know how many operatives are involved on the side of the SAD?”

  “That’s correct,” said Father Auciello. “However, Kimball asked us to find the person he believes to be the key operator in Operation Incite. A man by the name of Bates. No first name.”

  “But you’re moving on this?”

  Father Auciello nodded. “We’re still searching the databases and libraries. We’re even trying to tap into the CIA mainframes. But the firewalls are difficult to breach.”

  The pontiff nodded. “This document, if I read it correctly, states that we’re on ‘time-critical,’ and the operation is soon to be implemented. I believe during the festival of Santa Marija?”

  “That’s correct,” said Father Essex.

  “Have your people stay on top of this and find this man Bates. As of right now I want Father Auciello, in coordination with the Eminent President, who will serve as my proxy, to coordinate a trip to the United States and sit in council with the president. I would like you and the good Cardinal Antonio Calcagno to present your case with protestations of pending U.S. actions against the Malta sovereignty. Father Essex will remain at the Vatican where he will have full operational command of the SIV in your absence.”

  Father Auciello bowed his head. “Of course, Your Holiness.”

  “I’ll have the Holy See make immediate reservations with Alitalia Airlines for a flight out on Shepherd One. From this point on, I want shared communications between the Vatican, the SIV, and the Vatican Knights in Malta. I want everybody on the same page. And I definitely want the United States Government to know where we stand on these fronts.”

  “Yes, Your Holiness,” said Father Auciello, standing, as did Father Essex.

  Then from Essex: “I’ll notify Kimball immediately about ‘Incite’ and Bates.”

  “Please do,” said the pontiff.

  After they left the chamber, Pope John Paul III looked out the open doors of the balcony that overlooked the Courtyard. The day was beautiful, he considered, the sky fully blue with nary a cloud to be seen. Then he sighed through his nose. Could such a powerful ally in the United States be capable of such an act? To kill indiscriminately for gain that otherwise could not be reached through proper channels?

  He closed his eyes.

  And he thought about Kimball.

  Being a man of truly pious quality, Pope John Paul III truly believed that Kimball was in Malta by the complete authority of divine intervention. Though Kimball believed that the Light was beyond his grasp, Pope John Paul III knew otherwise, as did Bonasero Vessucci, the previous pope. Kimball Hayden was a vessel against the Darkness he always skirted, the man becoming an angel to some and a demon to others. And though Kimball felt more eclipsed by the Grayness of the shade rather than the full luminance of the Light, he was nevertheless a servant guided not by his will, but by the will of a Higher Being. And this is what Pope John Paul III truly believed; that Kimball’s fate was etched in stone and always had been.

  He opened his eyes.

  And he made the call to the Holy See.

  Within moments, due to the urgency of the Vatican, a flight had been readied.

  The second call, which was made directly from his chamber after a series of connections through the Vatican’s phone operator, reached a high-end principal who, in turn, informed the president of the United States that a few delegates, which included the Vatican’s Eminent President and a co-director of the SIV, expressed the desired need for a face-to-face council on matters of U.S. national security.

  The president agreed.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dingli, Malta

  “I know you’re not Bates,” Kimball said to Deveraux. “So what’s your name?”

  Deveraux insisted on remaining quiet.

  “Tell me about ‘Operation Incite.’ When is it going down?”

  More silence, the two men locking onto each other with steely gazes.

  “You really want to be responsible for the deaths of more than a hundred innocent people because of an agenda that Rhames wants to push forward? Can you, as an elite soldier for your country, live knowing that you were responsible for this action? Where’s the honor in that?”

  Deveraux’s features remained neutral.

  “You know something,” Kimball said softly. “I think I’ve had about enough of your attitude as I’m going to take.” Kimball reached out with his hand and grabbed Deveraux by the broken knee cap, and gave it a slight twist.

  Deveraux cried out as bolts of incredible pain raced through his lower extremes.

  “They say a broken knee cap is nothing to laugh about,” said Kimball. “I guess it’s true.” He gave another twist.

  Another scream filled the hut.

  “Where can I find Bates?”

  Deveraux gave Kimball a look that could kill. And then he spat, the fluid finding Kimball’s shirt.

  “Wrong answer.” Kimball twisted the knee from side to side, the man crying out in agony.

  “Kimball, that’s enough,” said Leviticus. “We don’t do this.”

  “No!” Kimball shot back. “You don’t do this. Isaiah doesn’t do this. And neither does Job or Jeremiah or anyone else who’s a Vatican Knight. Right now this man and others like him are trying to kill me. This I can deal with. What I can’t deal with is that one hundred people are about to die if we don’t do something. And this man is the key. Now I’m sorry if you don’t like my methods, Leviticus, but we don’t have the luxury of time on our side.”

  “It’s not what we do as Vatican Knights. We don’t torture people.” Leviticus was showing his edge.

  Kimball gave Leviticus a hard look. Then he removed his collar, the gesture telling the Vatican Knights in the room that he was acting outside the scope of their legitimacies, and placed the collar in the breast pocket of his shirt. By doing so he was no longer serving as a Vatican Knight.

  “Taking the collar off doesn’t make a difference,” Leviticus said. “You’re still a Vatican Knight.”

  “No. It doesn’t. I can walk away from this anytime because I know I’ll never see the Light.”

  Leviticus just stared at him.

  “Leave the room, Leviticus,” Kimball finally said. “And take the team with you.”

  “Kimball—” Leviticus let the rest of the sentence hang before turning and ordering the team out of the hut.

  All they could hear from the outside, even as they drew distance from the shelter, were the painful, ungodly screams of a man.

  #

  Deveraux appeared drained, his head having a slow bobble-head wobble to it.

  Kimball sat in front of him. “You’re a soldier,” he said. “You know killing more than a hundred innocent people, including women and children, can’t be honorable.”

  “Hey, Hayden, have you looked in the mirror lately?” Deveraux was catching his wits about him, his head no longer wavering. “You think you have the right to sit there and pontificate to me about killing women and children? I read your file. You were a monster I could never become, no matter what I did or who I do it for.”

  Kimball couldn’t deny this. In certain White House circles, he was known as a monster who killed with the cold fortitude of a machine. It was a past he knew he could never shake off.

  “That’s right, you hypocrite,” said Deveraux. “Don’t for one minute think you have any right talking to me about the lack of honor in killing women and children.”

  Kimball fought for calm, the muscles in the back of his jaw working. Then he reached forward and hammered the back of his fist against Deveraux’s bad knee. Deveraux cried out as the veins in his neck stuck out like
cords, his face growing crimson as his eyes started to roll.

  Kimball reached out and grabbed him, pulled him close. “Stay with me,” he told him.

  Deveraux started to breathe heavily, his chest heaving and pitching.

  “Tell me about Operation Incite, and all this goes away.”

  “Piss off,” Deveraux managed to say. “I don’t know anything called Operation Incite.”

  “We decrypted your messages on your phone and on another. Bates is the lead in this, isn’t he? The field strategist?”

  “Piss off.”

  “The devices spoken about and the Santa Marija festival, that’s when it’s going to happen, isn’t it?”

  “Piss . . . off.”

  Kimball slammed his fist against Deveraux’s knee once more, and hard. The frustration of the man’s abstinence getting to him. “Tell me to piss off one more time and I’ll hammer your knee into the floor. Operation Incite. The devices—I’m going to assume they’re explosive devices?”

  When Kimball raised his fist once more, Deveraux said weakly, “Yes.” Then he ran a dry tongue over his lips.

  “During the Santa Marija,” Kimball asked.

  Deveraux nodded softly. “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. My mission was to see you terminated. Operation Incite is under the command of a man named Cooper. All I know is that explosive devices will be going off at three points. Where? I don’t know. Not my call.”

  “And Bates?”

  “He’s the analyst like you said. He brought the weapons in. He knows where they’re going to be planted.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Deveraux appeared as if he was about to fade away, his eyes starting to show slivers of white.

  “Stay with me,” said Kimball. Then: “Cooper. Where can I find him?”

  “I don’t know. He’s at a secured location.”

  “In Valletta?”

  Another nod. Yes.

  “Was he the one directing you? Was he watching me through VisageWare?”

  Deveraux nodded, but barely.

  Kimball leaned back and patted the man on the side of the face, the type of soft pats that meant job well done, and got to his feet. When they pulled Deveraux from the wreckage they were in full view of the cameras. But as soon as they left Valletta and the roads a little more rural, the cameras disappeared. And so did the advantage of the facial recognition software program. Now Kimball would have to expose himself to Cooper once again, and a unit would be sent.

  It would be what Kimball Hayden needed at the precise moment.

  Exposure.

  Perhaps through Cooper he could find Bates.

  That, however, was a big maybe.

  And the time to intervene was getting critically low.

  The Santa Marija festival was about to go on.

  And the people, if the devices were planted under the authority of Senator Rhames, would become the lambs of slaughter to be served up as political sacrifices.

  Kimball went to a small briefcase and opened it. Inside was a new passport under a different alias, the name of Julian Winston, along with a credit card that matched that name, four audio-sensitive earbuds which did not require a lip mic, and then he left the hut after grabbing what he needed. Kimball then removed the cleric’s band from his pocket and fitted the white strip into his collar, while making his way to the team’s gathering. Then: “We have to move fast. Time’s critical.”

  “Did you get what you wanted?” Leviticus asked him.

  Kimball nodded. “I got enough.”

  “Now what?”

  “Explosive devices are going to be placed at three points during the Santa Marija festival. That gives us little time to find out where and neutralize the situation.”

  “Do you know where exactly?” asked Job.

  “No,” said Kimball, shaking his head. “But the strategist to ‘Operation Incite’ is somewhere in Valletta. We just have to find them.”

  “How?” Again, it was Job.

  “I have to be the bait,” Kimball answered. “They’ll find me through the FRSP and send a unit to complete the mission of a targeted killing. That still remains paramount in the eyes of the handler. Probably Rhames. You’ll serve as my cover. So we converge and do what we do best: We follow the trail that’s left behind. Questions?”

  There was one. From Leviticus. “What about the guy in the hut?”

  “Jeremiah stays behind to man the BGAN system.” Then to Jeremiah: “Stay in touch with the SIV. Relay to them that a confirmation was given by a NOC for the following: detonation devices to go off in Valletta during the Santa Marija festival. Will try to locate and defuse the situation. Backing from United States Senator Rhames. Got it?”

  Jeremiah gave a thumbs up.

  “Once shared communication has been established with the SIV,” Kimball added, “link us directly from the BGAN to the Vatican. If I need SIV intel, I want it dispatched directly to me from them since we’re on a time-critical matter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kimball addressed the rest of his team. “Right now we have very little to go on,” he told them. “We need to find a certain person, or persons, who can tell us when and where these devices are to be deployed. Secondly, we’re going up against the Special Activities Division. And believe me, these guys won’t be easy takes during our undertaking to deactivate the situation. ”

  “How much time are we talking about here?” Leviticus asked.

  “I don’t know. But we have to assume it’s minimal since the Santa Marija begins soon enough.”

  “That gives us what?” asked Job. “Fifteen hours?”

  “Something like that. Maybe more.” Kimball turned to Jeremiah. “Contact the SIV and let them know we’re on the move due to new information. Then send us the shared communication link as discussed.”

  “Copy that.”

  Though badly dented after the bump and grind with Deveraux's Citroen, the team got into the two vehicles they had taken from the retreat center and made their way back to Valletta, a twenty-minute ride.

  Kimball rode with Leviticus, the journey silent.

  And he thought about Shari Cohen.

  It was almost time to call her, he thought. Something he had done every single day whether it be from his chamber in Vatican City, or here in Valletta. He removed his cellphone, the one the Vatican Knights traced him from the night Deveraux was bearing down on him. The screen was cracked from the aftermath of his fall from the bike, but the phone was still useable.

  So he hit a single numeral on the keypad, a speed dial button, and was promptly connected.

  Father Amato Damelio picked up on the other end. “Hello, Mr. Hayden. How are you today?” he said in kind salutation.

  “To tell you the truth, Father Damelio, I could be better. Any changes?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he told him.

  “Please place the phone by her ear.”

  “Of course.”

  Then: “Shari. I know you can hear me. And I know it’s dark where you are. But I want you to know that I’m there with you. I’m holding your hand, Shari. So don’t be afraid. I know the Dark and I know it well. I’ll walk you through it. I promise. I’ll walk you out of the Darkness and toward the Light. So you hang in there, you hear me? You hang tough.” It was here that Kimball’s voice started to crack. “I’m right there with you. In the Dark. So you’re not alone. You’re never alone. Not in the Dark . . . I’m there with you.”

  “Mr. Hayden?” It was Father Damelio.

  Kimball cleared his throat, gathering himself from a moment of weakness. “Yes.”

  “Same time tomorrow?”

  He was about to say ‘God willing,’ but instead he said, “I’ll try.”

  “Very good. I’ll be here.”

  “No changes?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Thank you, Father Damelio.” And then Kimball hung up.

  Fr
om behind the wheel of the car Leviticus said nothing. Rarely had he seen Kimball emotionally choked. But it was on occasions like these that Leviticus quietly reveled in, these rare displays of passion from Kimball. It only confirmed to Leviticus what he knew all along: that Kimball Hayden was not the monster he believed himself to be. In fact, it only established the complete opposite: that Kimball Hayden was quite human.

  They continued the drive to Valletta in silence.

  PART FOUR

  RUNNING ON EMPTY

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Onboard Shepherd One

  Cardinal Antonio Calcagno served the Vatican as its president, the second highest position behind the Supreme Pontiff, which was John Paul III. He was a man of calm demeanor and a perpetual smile that was light but always pleasant. When he spoke he did so with a voice that was honey-smooth and monotone, and with words that were always well chosen.

  Like John Paul III, Calcagno was a part of the Preferiti or the Papabile, the unofficial terms used for candidates to be elected pope. But in the end it was John Paul III who was chosen by the cardinals in the Conclave, with the conquest having been noted by the white smoke erupting from the chimney.

  Calcagno was seated in the fore section of Shepherd One, the plane always referred to as such because of the implication of papal transports. He was pouring over documents with Father Auciello, each coming up with a game plan as how to confront the president of the United States of alleged improprieties, without damaging the relationship between the two countries.

  It was, at best, a fragile situation. But one that needed to be addressed on a couple of fronts. First, Kimball Hayden was not expendable in order to keep certain secrets safe. And ‘Operation Incite’ was not to be given any chance of execution.

  “Deniability is a plausible route that the president may take on this,” said Calcagno.

  “Unfortunately,” said Auciello.

  Then ways to judiciously propose the evidence without causing ire inside the White House were also discussed. And since President Burroughs agreed to a meeting due to issues deemed sensitive enough for a special envoy from the Vatican to present its case in a closed assembly, matters had to be delicately submitted.