by Brent Towns
“What was that?” Thurston asked from beside him.
“Nice day, Ma’am.”
“I bet,” she growled as she rose, letting loose a long burst of gunfire.
Another fusillade of shots brought a shooter to his knees with holes stitched across his chest. Then it all stopped. The remaining men threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender.
The team moved quickly but cautiously, securing the prisoners with cable ties to be held for Italian intelligence to pick up. Arenas checked over each of the vehicles to make sure everything was secure. As he came to the dead driver of the first vehicle to arrive, he recognized Carlo Laurito. His first bullet had punched the man’s ticket well and truly.
“How are we looking?” Thurston asked.
“All clear in here, Ma’am,” he said.
“Good. It was lucky we had sufficient warning to respond.”
Thurston went back inside still carrying her 416 and wearing her vest. Ferrero stared at her and asked, “How was it?”
“Just like old times. How’s everything going with Reaper?”
“I think we may be getting somewhere. I’m just waiting for him to check in.”
Piacevole Valley
Italy
“What is he doing still alive?” Capello snapped upon seeing Bellandi sitting in the chair, holding his bloody leg.
“Because we had to question him, that’s why,” Kane said.
“Well, kill him now,” the Italian ordered.
“We aren’t finished with him yet.”
“Are you afraid that I might tell them something, Efisio?” Bellandi sneered.
“Shut up,” Capello snapped.
Kane glanced at Bluey questioningly.
“Come on, Efisio, you know I won’t stay in jail, and when I get out, I’ll pay my old friend a visit.”
Suddenly a weapon appeared in Capello’s hand.
“No!” Kane shouted, but it was too late. The sidearm crashed, and the bullet it expelled punched into the killer’s head.
Kane whirled on the Italian. “What the fuck did you do that for? I needed him to answer some more questions.”
“He would not answer them,” answered the man, matter-of-factly.
“I’ll never find out now, will I?”
Capello remained mute, so Kane glanced at Bluey and nodded. The SAS man left the room and returned a few moments later with a struggling Elettra Bellandi. At the sight of her husband, she reefed herself from her captor’s hands, screeched and threw herself at the dead man, burying her face into his chest. Kane grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from her husband. “I need to ask you some questions.”
She turned to look at Kane and caught sight of Capello. Her face twisted in rage. “You did this. You did this because he would have exposed your dirty little secret.”
“What are you talking about?” Capello hissed. “Shut up.”
But the woman wouldn’t be silenced. “Maybe I will tell it instead now that you have killed him.”
With a snarl, Capello drew his gun again and raised it to fire. Once more, the sound of a gunshot filled the room.
Capello stiffened and turned to stare at Bluey. His eyes were asking the question his mouth could not. The SAS man lowered the weapon, and he said, “I figure you shooting one person cold is enough, Enzo. You don’t get to do it again.”
The Italian fell to the floor, dead.
Kane asked Elettra, “Why did he want to kill you?”
“Because he worked for my husband.”
“He was a mole?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still looking for my friend. Your husband said she was sent away. Where?”
“What is in it for me?”
Kane stared at her. “I will let you go.”
She snorted with laughter. “I do not believe you.”
“I guess it’s all you have. If you don’t tell me, I’ll turn you over to Italian intelligence.”
Fear flared in her eyes. “At least my way,” Kane said, “there’s a possibility of you getting out of Italy before the Mafia gets you.”
“OK,” she said, “I will tell you.”
“Good. Spill it. And don’t leave anything out.”
“She is in Vatican City.”
“Oh shit,” Bluey said. “That’s a whole different world.”
“You’ve been there before?” Kane asked.
The SAS man nodded. “Yeah, me and some of the guys worked with the Special Swiss Guard, training them in special tactics, counter-terrorism, and other shit like that.”
Kane frowned. “I never knew they had something like that.”
“They don’t. Not officially anyway. But with this whole ISIS bullshit that was going on in Europe, they wanted a force specially to guard the Pope. They originally wanted British SAS counter-terror to do it, but they had something on at the time and passed it off to us.”
“What’s she doing in Vatican City?” Kane asked.
“She was taken to the Brotherhood.”
“What brotherhood?”
“The Brotherhood of Druids.”
Bluey shook his head in disbelief. “You’re having a fucking lark, love.”
“A what?”
“A joke. You’re joking. They’re not real, just a myth.”
“They are real,” Elettra snapped.
“You’ve heard of these guys, Bluey?” Kane asked.
“When we were there training the Swiss Guard. I always thought it was just some bullshit story. You know, a suburban legend. Especially the bit about them practicing human sacrifice.”
“Shit, what?”
“It’s true,” Elettra said. “They take the girls that are of no use anymore. The Druids are seriously fucked up.”
“What does that say about you?” Kane asked. “You delivered the girls to them.”
“Not me, Amando.”
“No difference.”
Elettra remained silent.
“How do we find them?”
“I don’t know.”
“How, damn it?”
“I don’t know!”
“I might know of a way,” mused Bluey.
Kane glanced at him. “Feel like taking a trip?”
“Sure, why not?”
Milan, Italy
“If you think I’m going to let the team loose in Vatican City, then think again,” Thurston growled.
“It’s the only way we’ll damned well find Cara, General,” Kane pointed out more than a little forcefully.
“Turn it down a notch, Gunny,” she cautioned him. “I’m on your side, remember?”
“I agree, Ma’am,” Bluey said.
“Excuse me?”
Kane shot a scorching glare at the Australian who ignored him. “I was saying, Ma’am, that it would be a bad idea having your whole team inside Vatican City. But maybe two people might be better off.”
“Are you willing to go in there unarmed?”
“Like –”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Bluey cut him off.
“Fine. But on the surface, this must have zero footprint.”
“What about below the surface?”
“Waste the bastards.”
“I can deal with that.”
“So, just to clarify things, you’re green-lighting the op, Ma’am?” Kane asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s a relief,” Bluey said. “Because I have already set up a meeting for tomorrow with a contact who can fill us in on the blokes we’re after.”
“I guess we’d better get packed up, then if you want to make that meeting tomorrow.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Once out of earshot, Kane said to Bluey, “Who’s your contact?”
“He’s one of the men I helped train with the Swiss Guard. Funny thing is, he’s a Brit. Don’t ask me how he ended up there. I’ve no idea. He’s good people, though.”
“Do you think he will be able to help?”
“I
sure hope so.”
Chapter 18
Beneath Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City
The following day dawned bright and fresh. The sky was clear, and the breeze was cool. By eight, Rome was buzzing with vehicles and tourists, the latter having made the pilgrimage to the ancient city to hear and see Pope Michael – if only from a distance - who was to make a speech in Vatican City the following morning. People had traveled from every corner of the globe to be part of the congregation, which the Brotherhood of Druids intended to make use of. They planned to make a statement.
The sacrifices over the past few days had been leading up to that point which, with precise timing, would culminate with the final sacrifice and The Event. The Event was what it was all about. The sacrifice of the strong one, the Oracle had said, would drain the strength from her body and transfer it to the Chosen One, helping him to succeed in his mission.
Cara had heard whispers about the ones the brothers called the Oracle and the Chosen One.
“Is this her?” a voice said, echoing from the stone walls of the catacombs.
Cara opened her eyes and saw Brother Red standing there beside another man she’d not seen before. He looked nothing like the druids that she’d already seen. This man was younger and fitter than the others and was dressed in white braided with gold.
Brother Red nodded. “Yes, your grace. This is her. She is strong; the gods will be pleased.”
The man nodded. “But I see you are troubled. What is the problem?”
“She has friends who are looking for her, and they are coming to the city.”
Cara’s eyes flickered at the mention of her friends, but she said nothing. Instead, it was the new man who spoke. “What is being done to take care of them?”
“It is under control.”
“I hope so. Nothing is to stop us from our course.”
Cara chuckled.
“What is so funny?” the newcomer asked.
“If my friends are coming, asshole, they’ll kill you.”
“Show the bishop some respect,” Brother Red hissed.
“Screw you.”
“Easy, Brother Red. She is scared. It is fine.”
Cara shook her head and let her pent-up fear turn to anger. “I ain’t scared, you prick. I’m excited. Because my friends are going to cut your fucking heart out.”
Red stepped forward, and Cara cringed. However, the bishop stopped him. “Leave it. We shall go.”
As both men walked off into the shadows and their footsteps faded, Cara was left on her own with only her chains for company.
Rome, Italy
They planned to meet at a small, out of the way café with a stone façade. Bluey and Kane had arrived early and were now drinking strong coffee, waiting patiently for the Australian’s contact to reach out. “He shouldn’t be far away,” Bluey said, looking at his watch.
Both men were unarmed and dressed casually in jeans and collared shirts. Kane watched a young couple walk by holding hands, smiling, oblivious to the troubles of the world.
“Do you think they know?” Kane asked.
“Know what?”
“That life isn’t all beer and skittles.”
“They’ll find out one day.”
The waiter approached their table once more and asked whether they would like a refill, to which both men agreed. “Are you sure your guy is coming?” Kane asked impatiently.
“He said he was.”
Another ten minutes passed before a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared, dressed in cargo pants and a blue shirt. He flashed them a smile and said in a heavy accent said, “Sorry I’m late; I had some things to take care of.”
Bluey introduced him to Reaper, and the men shook hands. Craig Fletcher, late of the “Regiment”, now headed up the Swiss Guards Special Team.
“What can I do for you, chaps?” he asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
“We need your help, Fletch,” Bluey explained. “We’re trying to locate a missing woman somewhere in Vatican City.”
Fletcher nodded. “I’ll help where I can. What’s her name?”
“Cara Billings.”
The man nodded. “You got more, Bluey?”
They gave him a basic rundown of events and then dropped the bombshell about the druids. “Word is the druids have her.”
Fletcher stared at them both in bewilderment. “You two are having a laugh, right?”
When they said nothing, he shook his head. “You’re not.”
“We got the information straight from the source,” Bluey told him.
“Whoever that was lied to you.”
“I don’t think so,” Kane said.
“Come on, Fletch. You were the one who told me about all this bullshit in the first place,” the Australian reminded him.
“Only as a laugh. This shit isn’t real.”
“Can you help us or not?” Kane asked, starting to get annoyed. “She’s here, and we’ll go at it whether you do or not.”
Fletcher’s gaze chilled. “That’s not a good idea, friend.”
“I don’t much care whether it is or not. She’s one of mine, and she’s not being left behind.”
The Brit studied him for a moment and then sighed. “I’ll see what I can come up with. Give me until tomorrow afternoon.”
Kane didn’t like it but nodded anyway. “All right then. We’ll wait.”
“I’ll give you a call.”
The man rose from his seat and walked off. Kane looked across the table at Bluey and saw the troubled expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. The Fletch I knew once would have jumped over the table to help out. But somehow, he’s different now.”
“The responsibility of command will do that.”
The Australian smiled and shrugged. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“Come on, we’ll head back to the safehouse.”
Safehouse, Rome
“How did it go?” Ferrero asked upon their return.
Kane shrugged. “I’m not sure. Bluey reckons that there was something off about his friend.”
Ferrero looked in the Australian’s direction. “How off?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t seen him for some years, but still, something wasn’t right.”
“So, what did he say?”
“That he’d ask around and get back to us tomorrow afternoon,” Bluey said. “That was after he tried to brush us off.”
“So now we wait?” Ferrero asked.
“No, we can’t,” Swift said, appearing from another room. “I think I might have something else. Something more troubling.”
“What do you mean?” Kane asked.
“Gwynn ap Nudd,” Swift said.
“Who’s he?”
“The Druid’s God of war, death, fallen warriors, the hunt. King of the Sidhe and the Otherworld. Nasty piece of work by all belief. The Celts used to sacrifice to him before they went into battle or something big was to happen. They would conduct the sacrifices over a few days and then leave the strongest one for last.”
“Is there a point to this?” Ferrero asked.
“Over the past four days, the local police have found the bodies of four young ladies scattered around Rome. Each one had had their throat slashed.”
“You think they’re connected?” Kane asked.
“I did a little digging and found that two years ago the same thing happened and then an attempt was made on the Pope’s life. It failed, but only by dumb luck. There were five bodies found around the time of the attempt. Back in eighty-two when Pope Francis the Fourth was assassinated, five girls were found. If you go back even further to the mid-fifties, another five women were found with their throats slashed. At that time, another attempt was made on a sitting pope. It failed because the gun did not discharge. You see the pattern?”
“You’re telling us that something is about to happen?” Kane asked. “That Cara could be the fifth one?”
“Why would they do that?” Ferrero asked.
“Because they believe that the strength of the strongest one is passed on.”
“They’re going after the Pope?” Bluey theorized.
“That would be my guess,” Swift said with a nod.
“If that’s the case, where?”
“He has an open-air mass tomorrow at eleven,” Swift told them.
“Which means we have got until then to find Cara,” Kane said.
“Sorry, Reaper,” the computer tech apologized.
“Not your fault. We need a place to start looking.”
“But where?” Bluey said. “Rome is a big city.”
“No, not Rome,” Swift said hurriedly. “I’d say they want to be close. Maybe Vatican City itself.”
“Still going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Bluey observed.
“There might be a way. There is a curator at one of the museums who’s been around for a while. He’s apparently into all kinds of alternative religious stuff.”
“What is his name?” Ferrero asked.
“Professor Callisto Bianchi.”
“Where’s he at?”
“A place called Museo Gregoriano Egiziano,” Swift rattled off, looking proud of his pronunciation.
Bluey snorted. “That’s a frigging mouthful.”
“It’s a place to start,” Kane said. “If we wait for your mate, I think we’ll be too late.”
“You’ll have to go back in unarmed,” Ferrero said.
“We still need to warn someone about what we think is going to happen,” Kane told Ferrero.
“But what will happen? We have nothing except theories. The best we can do is put some people in the crowd and hope it turns out OK.”
Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
Professor Callisto Bianchi was seated behind his desk when the knock came on his door. He put down the pen he was making notes with and looked up. “Entra.”