As if he could read his thoughts, Icar said, “The action moves to the convocation of cardinals. You must get back to New Orleans and go to Iceland. The cardinals will convene to elect a new pope. Dr. Lejeune and the monsignor, along with all your old friends, will be there. Plus, I sense there are new players on the board. Together, they are strong. But they will all be in Iceland where we can break them apart. There is a child. You must bring me the child. The circle will be broken. With my faster plane, you should be able to get to Reykjavik ahead of them.”
A child? Broken circle? What the hell?
“But you said the pope is still alive,” responded the Burnt Man, hand signaling his pilot to crank the engines and head south.
“True, but the masses do not know the pope lives,” said Icar, laughing. “Whatever is left of Christianity will demand a new leader. The cardinals will appoint a new pope, not knowing the current one has survived. Chaos will reign. It’s possible this will even create a schism within the Church, with one group following the new pope and the other clinging to the old pope.”
“How does that help us and our plan?” he asked.
“Internal conflict and division within the Catholic Church will be our ally. They will not be able to recover in time. The whole thing will fall. The entire world will burn.”
The Burnt Man thought about this and realized that Icar had one objective, and he had another. While he had been initially enchanted with the scope of the man’s vision, now, he realized, he could barely stomach this strange being. He was completely devoid of any humanity. The Burnt Man smirked at the thought of his own lost humanity. He was as ruthless as they came and willing to do anything to reach his goals, but Icar would destroy all, including him.
“What do you want me to do?” the Burnt Man yelled into the phone, as the go-fast came onto plane and slashed southward.
CHAPTER
68
Cloe looked over at J.E. and said, “How long before we get to Reykjavik?”
“We’re about thirty minutes out,” he replied as the plane banked toward the north.
Cloe looked back and saw that nearly everyone was asleep. She had dozed and now felt somewhat refreshed.
“How did that dog get on board? We left him at the camp. There’s no way he could have followed.”
“Mom, he must have tagged along and stowed away on the cruiser in the fog,” said J.E. “Then he simply followed us to the airport and slipped on board when no one was watching. It was dark and unbelievably foggy.”
“J.E., do you really believe that?” asked Cloe, under her breath.
“Well, what’s your explanation?” asked J.E. “You think he sprouted angel’s wings and flew across the lake and somehow materialized on the plane?”
“Maybe. Between him and Robby, I’m not sure which explanation is more farfetched.”
At that point, the Vatican jet rolled and began its long descent. In spite of the lengthy flight and the time-zone changes, the sun still shone on the plane’s six. This was not the land of the midnight sun, but it was the next closest thing.
“Reykjavik is within a mile or two of our destination, the Basilica of Christ the King, known today as Landakot’s Church or Landakotskirkja,” said J.E. “It’s the Catholic cathedral where the cardinals will meet.”
“J.E., I’m very worried about this,” she responded. “We need to be focused on the ascent of the evil one, but here we are in this strange country to elect a replacement for a pope who is not dead. We seem to be taking our eye off the ball.”
“But no one knows that except us.”
“Perhaps that’s why we’re here, J.E.,” said Cloe, after a moment’s consideration.
***
As they taxied toward the general aviation hangar, Cloe could see there was another airplane ahead of them. It was parked near the entrance, and several men were deplaning.
Sky skirted the parked jet and brought the Vatican plane to a stop about fifty yards away from the entrance to the business side of the hangar. As Cloe closed her computer and prepared to stand and move down the aisle toward the open door, she glanced out the window again at the men departing the other airplane. She did a double take when she saw one of them. Did she know him? Was it the way he walked? The way he held his head? She saw him for only a second before he passed under the wing of the plane.
“J.E.,” she said.
But J.E. had already exited the plane.
Cloe shrugged and went back to help Robby’s mother with her son. Robby was awake and alert, and Bully was excited. He growled at her again.
Robby’s mother gathered their things, and Cloe held Robby’s hand as they moved toward the cabin door. Cloe looked out the door in the odd, somehow alien daylight, so unusual for this hour of the evening. She shivered even though it was not cold.
Bully rushed forward, entangling himself in Cloe’s legs, nearly knocking her aside. His growl was louder, more insistent. He stood between Robby and the door.
“What is it?” asked Robby’s mother, catching up with them.
“I don’t know,” responded Cloe, now beginning to worry but not wanting to alarm Robby or his mother. “Bully’s upset about something. Perhaps it’s the weird light.”
Cloe emerged from the door of the aircraft and heard the pilot of the other plane begin to start up its jet engines. She descended the short flight of steps to the tarmac. J.E., Jacob, and the others were milling about in a tight circle, talking to some of the men from the other jet. One of the men, near the rear of the pack, dressed in an overcoat with its collar pulled up almost to the brim of his hat, stepped toward them. At that, Bully leaped from the doorway of the plane, flew over Cloe and landed squarely between them. He issued a single loud bark of warning.
Cloe half-turned toward where Robby and his mother were standing at the top of the steps and saw armed men under the fuselage, holding their weapons trained on J.E. and the others.
“I’m sorry, Mom. They got the drop on us,” said J.E.
He, Jacob, and a couple of the men from the seven were looking for some opportunity to fight back. One of the men held a wicked-looking stiletto, hidden against the back of his sleeve. Things were about to spiral out of control.
“Hold on, here,” Cloe said, advancing on the nearest of the newcomers. “What do you want? We are a diplomatically protected group of papal representatives.”
The man looked unsure and backed up a step. He glanced back at the man in the overcoat.
“We want the boy,” said the clandestine figure in the background. His words were soft but clear.
The nearest man advanced on the airplane. Bully stood on his back legs and emitted a terrible roar.
Robby’s mother cried, “Noooo!”
Cloe stepped forward and said, “You can’t have him or anybody else! The police are on their way. You’d best crawl back into whatever hole you came from!”
She felt her chest clench in fear. Her people were greatly outgunned, and the element of surprise was with the intruders. Cold sweat dripped down her back.
The man in the background laughed softly and said, “Go get him.”
The laugh and the voice were familiar, but she could not say why. It came at once from long ago but also from the recent past. Was it the voice from the speedboat?
The man Cloe had addressed initially advanced on the boy and made to grab his arm.
“Come on, son,” he said gently.
Bully launched forward, grabbed the man’s arm, shook it in his great mouth, and tore it from the socket at the shoulder. Blood spurted everywhere as the man’s arteries began to empty. Bully stood with the stump of the man’s arm in his teeth while the man screamed.
The background man nodded, and three men took pistols from their overcoats and simultaneously fired at Bully.
“Bully!” cried Cloe at the same time tha
t Robby screamed, “No, no, no!”
Where there should have been the earsplitting blasts of handguns, however, there was only the spit of compressed air.
“Our friends in New Orleans made us aware of the dog, and we have come prepared,” said the disguised man, who was obviously the leader. “We certainly don’t want any animals harmed in this endeavor.”
Cloe watched as the darts crashed into Bully, all three direct hits. Bully jumped and snapped at them, trying to remove them. He circled, trying to find the enemy. Finally, he began to slow. Still, he was fierce, and no one could get to Robby.
For Cloe it was like watching a movie, frame by frame.
As the drug took effect, Robby huddled next to Bully with his small arms around his great neck and shoulders.
Robby’s mother screamed, and Jacob kicked one of the newcomers in the groin, sending him crashing to the tarmac. Jacob grabbed the man’s gun, spun, and squeezed off a three-round spread in the leader’s direction, but his shots went high.
The leader drew his own weapon, snake-quick, and fired a single shot at Jacob, hitting him square left center in the chest. Jacob went down hard. J.E. bent over him to try to help.
Now all was still except for Jacob’s labored breathing and the startup whine of the jet’s engines.
“Robby, come here!” said the leader of the band of thugs.
Robby’s mother screamed again, and then her knees buckled. She toppled off the top step of the doorway and would have fallen to the tarmac except that Sky, standing at the foot of the steps, caught her.
Robby walked toward the man, straight up and unafraid.
“Robby!” cried his mother, her arms stretched out.
Robby turned and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. God will take care of me.”
The leader took Robby’s hand, and they turned toward the jet, now ready for takeoff.
As he walked toward the jet with Robby in hand, the Burnt Man paused, looked back toward Cloe, and called out, “Dr. Lejeune, won’t you join us?”
He and his men then began backing away and boarding the aircraft, with chaos erupting on the tarmac. J.E. jumped up from where he was tending to Jacob and ran toward his mother, who was now with Robby and his captor. One of the thugs raised his AK-47 and pointed squarely at J.E., but before he could shoot him dead, Cloe intervened.
“I don’t know who you are, but I’ll go with you only if my son is not harmed.”
“You will go with me one way or another,” said the Burnt Man. “But I do not wish your son’s blood on my hands, at least not today. Warn him to stay away.”
“J.E.!” screamed Cloe. “We will be all right. Stay away. I’ll see you at the mount.”
The Burnt Man’s servant loosed a volley of gunfire just over J.E.’s head. He hit the ground and rolled over as the Burnt Man and his hostages boarded the plane.
Then it quickly roared down the runway, tearing itself from the earth, and headed southeast.
CHAPTER
69
J.E. rose to his knees, looked after the plane, and swore a terrible oath that he would find his mother and Robby and he would put the people responsible in their graves—but now he had work to do here.
He ran back to Captain Jacob, who was coughing and spitting up blood. Sky was holding Robby’s mother and gently laid her on the tarmac. Everyone else was shaken but unhurt.
“J.E.!” called a voice from the terminal.
He turned and saw the monsignor and the curator coming out the door to the depot.
The monsignor took one look, assessed the situation, and then he was on his cell calling for an ambulance.
“Father Curator,” said the monsignor. “Please go inside. There must be a medical kit and maybe someone trained in using it.”
The curator departed at once. The monsignor came over to him and the Israeli.
A blond-headed man in jeans and a sweatshirt crashed through the terminal door carrying a medical kit the size of a small foot locker and ran toward them.
“My name is Hans Taj. I run the general aviation terminal here,” he said. “I’m a certified medic. Let me see what I can do.”
He bent down over Jacob and, using a blade, cut his tunic and undershirt away.
“Hmmm,” he said.
He rolled Jacob over to his side and cut away the rest of his shirt. He examined the captain’s back. J.E. could see there was no exit wound.
“He needs a hospital as quickly as possible,” said Taj. “The bullet must come out.”
“We’ve called for an ambulance,” said the monsignor. “They said three minutes.”
Taj took materials from the kit and cleaned and sanitized the wound. He applied a powder that J.E. took to be an antibiotic. He then quickly and expertly bandaged the wound to stanch the bleeding. He gently laid Jacob’s head on a large roll of bandages and said, “That’s all I can do.”
As he stood, J.E. could hear the siren of the ambulance in the distance.
“Could you look at the woman?” asked J.E. as the siren grew louder.
Taj went to Robby’s mother and gave her some smelling salts. Sky still squatted by her, fanning her and trying to make her comfortable. She quickly revived and began to scream for Robby. He talked calmly to her and gave her an injection from the bag. She began to settle down.
Walking back to where J.E. was, he said, “She’s fine physically, but she seems to have had a shock. What happened out here?”
“Didn’t you hear the gunshots?” asked Zack.
“No,” said Taj. “The observation tower is on the other side of the airport. They did not report any problem. The terminal here is very well insulated because of the jet engines and because we have sleeping quarters within. Our pilots must have a quiet place to rest.”
“We need information on the plane that just took off. One of the men on the plane shot this man, and they took two hostages. Can you contact the tower and get a flight plan, coordinates, and a destination?” asked J.E.
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Taj, heading for the terminal. “The police must be alerted.”
“J.E., what happened?” asked the monsignor.
“Mom and one of the seven have been taken,” said J.E. “They got the drop on us as we deplaned. Jacob fought back and was shot. He seems to be hurt pretty badly.”
“Who was it?” asked the monsignor. “Did you recognize any of them?”
“I don’t know—I mean, I’m not sure,” J.E. stammered. “One of them was familiar, but I did not see any one I knew. I know that’s a contradiction, but that’s it.”
The monsignor said, “Well, in any event, I have alerted the monks in the Opts Center, or what’s left of it, and they will be tracking the airplane.”
J.E. called to Sky, “Get some rest and have the plane fueled. We are wheels up in thirty minutes.”
“Aye, J.E.” replied Sky. “We’ll find them.”
The ambulance arrived, and the med-techs carefully examined Jacob, nodding their approval at the measures taken to save his life. They loaded him and tore off in the direction of the nearby hospital. J.E. and the monsignor went with Jacob to watch over him, and the curator stayed behind to make arrangements for Zack and his crew.
“J.E., you said one of the seven had been taken,” the monsignor shouted over the screaming ambulance. “What does that mean? Who are ‘the seven’?”
Exhausted by the long day’s events, J.E. quickly filled him in on what they knew.
“Mom thinks the seven, including the boy who was taken, are somehow involved with us in our fight against the rise of evil,” said J.E., holding on with one hand as the ambulance swerved through a corner. “We don’t know how they are involved, and they don’t know either. But the fact one of them was taken says something.”
“Yes,” replied the monsignor as they arrived at the em
ergency room. “One of the seven has been taken. You might say the circle is broken.”
PART
III
The Mount
And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon.
—Revelation 16:16
CHAPTER
70
“Who are you?” screamed Cloe as the jet lifted off the runway. “What do you want?”
“Calm yourself, Dr. Lejeune,” said the Burnt Man, just loud enough to be heard over the engines.
“Where are we being taken?” she demanded.
Cloe had been strapped into a seat next to Robby. The kidnapper sat at a table, tapping text into a laptop. Probably a message to whomever this man works for, she thought. Mission accomplished.
She looked at Robby. He was wide-eyed, not taking his eyes off the man. She put her arm around him and pulled him as close as the seat belts permitted.
“It’ll be okay, Robby,” she whispered.
“I know, Dr. Cloe,” the child responded.
Cloe looked up at the figure across the table, who had now finished what he was doing on the computer and was staring at her. Do I know you?
“You think you know me?” asked the man, stealing the thought from her mind.
She glared at him. His coat collar was up, and his hat was still pulled down. She could not see much of his face except his eyes and part of his nose. The nose was a pitted husk, as if disfigured in a fire, but the eyes were clear and bright.
“Yes … no. How could I? Have we met?”
The man paused for so long that Cloe thought at first that he must not have heard her.
“Yes,” was all he said.
He stood with some effort and walked toward the back of the plane, apparently checking on his men. The walk was once again familiar. Cloe turned, and out of the corner of her eye she saw that he was removing his coat and stowing his hat.
He strode back to the table and sat opposite her. Cloe stared into his face and gasped in shock. His skin rippled like midday heat against his bones. Red-and-blue scabs and scars repulsed her as nothing else had in her life. He had no ears, no eyebrows, no hair of any kind. She had never seen a visage so damaged. Ruined, was all she could think.
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