by Brent Towns
There was movement to the left, and a couple of security men appeared. They looked perplexed at the sight of the big ex-marine and started forward in a hurry. Pope Michael held up his hand and uttered something in Italian that Axe couldn’t understand. The two men backed away hesitantly but not out of sight.
“Now, Axel, where were we?”
Axe said, “You’re in trouble, Mikey. My team believes that someone is going to try to kill you.”
Pope Michael’s expression never changed. “Why do you think this?”
Axe went through everything pertinent as fast as he could without going into too much detail. When he was finished, the elderly man nodded. “What do you propose I should do about it?”
“I don’t know, Mikey. Maybe cancel the blasted thing.”
“I can’t do that.”
“So, you’re going to stand up there and hope to Christ you don’t get a bullet in your head?”
Pope Michael stared at him.
“Shit, sorry.”
“I see your tongue is still as sharp as ever, Axel.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive, Mikey.”
“God will do that, Axel. If he decides to call me home, then so be it.”
Axe sighed. “You’re still as frustrating as ever.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Do you mind if I take a look around to see if I can find anything?”
The Pope nodded. “I will tell my security that you should be accommodated and to give you whatever you ask for.”
He waved at one of the men who came forward. The Pope spoke briefly, and the man frowned at him. The elderly man made a hurry up motion with his hand, and the security man reached inside his coat and took out a handgun. Pope Michael handed it across to Axe who gave him a questioning glance. The Pope placed a hand on his arm then said to him, “It’s not the same world today as it was yesterday, Axel. Go with God.” He made the sign of the cross.
“Don’t forget to duck, Father.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
St. Peter’s Square,
Vatican City
“Slick, you’re a smart man, aren’t you?” Axe asked
There was a moment’s hesitation before Swift came back with, “Why?”
“I need your help to figure out where this bastard is, and how he’s going to kill Mikey.”
“Who’s Mikey?”
“The Pope, damn it.”
“OK. What do you need?”
“I figure he will be a sniper. But the thing is the bulletproof glass that will be in front. So, he either needs a clear line of sight, or there will be two shooters.”
“Why two?”
“I figure maybe an armor-piercing round first up then a normal .308 follow up to take down the target.”
“Why not a bomb?”
“Aw shit, don’t throw that at me. That’s something that I don’t even want to consider. Is the boss there?”
“I’ll get him.”
While he waited, Axe paced, scanning all the places he figured he would set up a hide. A few moments later, Ferrero came on, “What’s up, Reaper Four?”
“Boss, I’ve been given free rein to snoop around for any threats.”
“Who gave you that?”
“Mikey.”
“Who is Mikey?”
“The Pope.”
“You’re shitting me?”
“No, I ain’t. I’ll explain later.” Axe continued pacing as he went on. “I told Slick we needed eyes in the air. What would really help is a satellite.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Any news from the general?”
No. They’ve gone underground.”
“OK. I’ll stay in touch.”
“Be careful.”
Axe scanned the square once more, letting his eyes roam over every surface and possible location, and then he saw it. Atop the Apostolic Palace. He was almost certain that the sniper who had been there wore a helmet. Now there were two there, and they both wore caps.
“Bravo Four, Copy?”
“Copy.”
“Can you see two POIs on top of the Apostolic Palace?”
“Wait one.”
It was then that Axe realized that the crowd had swelled exponentially. They were jammed into the front half of the square. A few moments later, Swift said, “I can’t get a clear view of them, Reaper Four.”
Suddenly the crowd began to cheer. Axe looked about and saw that the Pope had appeared on the steps of the Basilica and was making his way to the podium. “Shit! It’s too late, Slick. Mikey’s just come out. I’m going for the roof.”
Beneath Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
Thurston and Traynor moved stealthily along the dimly lit corridor on rubber-soled boots. Movement up ahead made them step back into the inky blackness of the shadows. Somewhere, from further away in the direction they were heading, came the sound of low chanting. Thurston touched Traynor on the shoulder, and he slipped out of the shadow and moved forward once more.
They had found the entrance to the catacombs concealed behind a large wall tapestry. From there, a stone staircase wound down into the damp depths of the unknown.
The faint glow of firelight flickered along the stone block walls, causing the shadows to dance. As they closed the distance, the chanting grew louder. Being careful so as not to be seen, Traynor peered tentatively around the corner of the stone wall and into the lit chamber where he saw five men, four of whom were dressed in white robes. The fifth one was wearing a garment of bright blue. His arms were upright, and the dancing light from the blazing torch wall-sconces caught the long blade of the knife he held aloft.
“Hold it right there, asshole!”
Moving into the chamber, Traynor’s voice echoed throughout the small space, causing them to turn in his direction. Beside him, Thurston said, “Get the knife.”
Realizing what she’d said, Bianchi tried to bring the knife down in between Cara’s exposed breasts.
Traynor moved quickly, and his right hand clamped down on the blade, the sharp edge cutting deep to the bone. He bit back a curse of pain but didn’t let go. Instead, he focused his gaze on the professor, and his left fist looped over and landed flush on the man’s jaw.
“Take that, you crazy fucker,” he uttered through clenched teeth.
Bianchi cried out and fell backward, disappearing behind the altar. Thurston appeared beside the ex-DEA man and shoved the dumbstruck cloaked men out of the way. A snarl from one of them drew her attention as Brother White launched himself at her.
With practiced ease, she brought her right elbow around and smashed it into the center of the man’s bruised face. With a sickening crunch, his broken nose mashed into his sinus cavity and up into his brain, and he collapsed at Thurston’s feet. She checked Cara who was still out cold and then turned to look at the others. “Are you pricks going to cause us any more trouble?”
Two of them stepped back, leaving one standing close to the altar. “Who are you?”
“I am no one,” Brother Red said.
“Where are my men?”
He said nothing, but his eyes flickered and gave it away. Thurston looked at Traynor and noticed his hand. “Are you OK?”
“Nothing a couple of dozen stitches won’t fix.”
“Shit. Hang in there and keep an eye on these assholes. I’ll be back.”
Walking around the altar, she grabbed Brother Red roughly and shoved him ahead of her. “Move.”
She found her team members in chains where they’d been left. When Kane saw his boss, he said, “Boy, am I glad to see you. Did you find Cara? How is she?”
“She’s OK,” the general answered as she turned the druid around so she could watch him. “Give me the key to the manacles!”
“I don’t have it,” the man answered evenly.
“Bullshit,” spat Kane. “You locked us in here.”
The general moved in close to
Brother Red and grabbed him by the throat. “Give me the fucking key! I don’t have time for this shit.”
The man reached into his robe and produced a key on a leather string. He handed to the general, and she released him, giving him a shove for good measure.
Moving across to Reaper, she began to free them.
While the general worked on Bluey’s restraints, Kane rubbed his wrists briskly then stepped forward and punched the druid in the mouth. He spat on the floor and said, “Fuck you.”
“Feel better?”
“Much,” Kane said. “We have to get topside. They’re going to kill the Pope.”
“I’ve got Axe on it as we speak. We pieced it together. Right now, though, we need to secure these guys and get Pete to a medic.”
Apostolic Palace
When Axe reached the roof of the palace, there were no thoughts of creeping up on those who were there. Time had run out, and he needed to stop whoever it was before they were able to enact their plan.
The handgun, a Beretta 92FS, swept up as he made his way along the rooftop. He found them soon after, one hunched over a sniper rifle, his companion beside him with another weapon. Axe’s theory had been right. He’d come up behind them, so both were looking in the opposite direction.
On the roof beside them was the prone figure of the dead police sniper who’d originally been placed there. The ex-marine’s jaw set firm, then. “Hey, assholes.”
The sniper on the left turned his head, surprised to see Axe standing there holding a gun. The second man, however, didn’t move. He was now the primary threat. Axe’s weapon aimed to the right and fired twice. The bullet from the Beretta punched into the back of the man’s head, knocking him forward. The shooter’s trigger finger curled reflexively, and the rifle roared.
The bullet flew harmlessly skyward which was lucky considering the extensive number of civilians in the square below. The remaining shooter reacted immediately and rolled to his left, trying to bring the heavy, large caliber rifle in his hands to bear. It was a slow, cumbersome move and Axe had all the time in the world to put a bullet in the sniper’s head. With the Beretta still raised, Axe moved forward to check the fallen men.
A round whistled as it tore through the air directly at Axe, although it didn’t register in his mind what it was before the hammer blow knocked him back. All the air rushed from his lungs, and he tried helplessly to draw in more. His mouth opened and closed until he finally managed to inflate them.
The ex-marine tried to rise, but everything was numb. He felt the wetness and touched it with his hand. Then Axe brought it up in front of his face. His hand was covered in blood.
“Fuck me, I’ve been shot,” he mumbled. “The bastards shot me.”
“Zero? Man down. Zero – Zer –”
And everything went black.
Museo Gregoriano Egiziano
Vatican City, Italy
“Axe is down! I repeat, Axe is down, he’s been shot! There’s another shooter.”
“Shit!” Thurston hissed. “Reaper, Axe is down.”
“Christ, where?”
Traynor reached up and took his earpiece out. “Here, Reaper, take this. Go.”
Kane had been helping Cara who looked at him, her eyes still a little hazy from the drugs. “Go, Reaper.”
“I’ll come with you,” Bluey said.
Thurston gave him her comms and watched them head off at a sprint. In a low voice, she said, “Good luck.”
There was chaos out in the square. A crush of humanity moved like a giant wave as their panic rose to a fever pitch. Kane said, “This is not good.”
Bluey nodded. “You go to your man. I’ll look for the shooter. I’ve a feeling I know who it is and where he’s going.”
“Roger that.”
The two men separated, Kane running towards the palace. “What do you have for me, Slick?”
“Medics are on their way, Reaper. There are already security personnel on the rooftop with him.”
“Fine. Now help Bluey find that fucking shooter.”
“I can’t. You’ve seen what it’s like down there.”
“Try, damn it.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Kane broke out onto the rooftop, three armed men who were standing over Axe, turned their weapons to face the new arrival, while a fourth continued to work on the fallen man. Kane threw his arms in the air and shouted to the men that he was a friendly and not to shoot. The men didn’t comprehend his words, but his hand actions indicated that he was with Axe and they hesitantly lowered their weapons.
When he reached Axe’s side, he knelt beside his friend, looking down at all the blood that was on the roof surface, and the man’s pallid complexion told him that this could only be a fatal injury. It was at that point that he picked up Axe’s hand and said goodbye to his friend.
The Basilica
Bluey ran up the steps of the Basilica and found his first body just inside the main entrance. The security man had taken a bullet to his chest and lay in a pool of blood. The Australian reached down and picked up the Beretta which had been dropped and checked the loads. It was good.
He heard the voices before he entered the cathedral. Just outside were two more of the Pope’s security detail. Bluey said into his comms, “I have three down in the Basilica, and I’m pretty sure our guy is in here with the Pope. I’m going to take a look.”
“Stand down, Bluey,” Ferrero ordered.
“If I do that, the Pope is as good as dead. Bluey, out.”
With the Beretta raised, he walked into the cathedral and immediately saw Fletcher standing with the Pope in the nave about a third of the way to the papal altar. The Brit had a handgun pointed at the Pope who was trying to reason with his executioner.
Bluey said, “Fletch, now would be a good time to put the gun down, Mate. It’s all over.”
“It is not over until I kill the heathen Pope.”
“Why? I’ve not heard any of you idiots say why.”
His eyes grew crazy, and he said, “Because our Gods will it, that’s why.”
Bluey shook his head and said, “Batshit crazy.”
He squeezed the trigger on the gun, and the bullet punched into the head of his one-time friend. Fletcher dropped like a stone to the solid floor. Out of habit, Bluey moved in quickly and kicked the weapon away from the dead man. He looked at the stunned Pope and asked, “Are you OK, Cobber?”
Pope Michael nodded dumbly.
“I’m sorry about that, Father. I had to do it, or he would have killed you.”
“God will forgive you, my son.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Bluey told him. Then into his comms, he said, “The package is secure.”
Epilogue
Rome, Italy
Four Days Later
Axe coughed once before opening his eyes. At first, his vision was blurred, and then as it cleared, a face swam into view. He tried to speak but nothing was forthcoming. Swallowing to moisten his dry throat, it felt like coarse sandpaper had been used on it. He said, “Are we both dead?”
Cara smiled. “You think I would hang out with you if we were both dead?”
“I feel like I should be.”
“You very nearly were,” Kane said to him from the other side of the bed.
Axe turned his head and grinned at him. “Hey, amigo, now I know I ain’t dead. If I was, you sure as shit wouldn’t be here. I’d be surrounded by lots of pretty women just like Cara and the general.”
“Are you talking about me?” Thurston asked.
Alarm suddenly registered on his face. “Permission to die, Ma’am?”
“Not yet, Axel. I have things planned for you.”
“Damn it, Reaper, she called me Axel.”
“She did.”
“Did we get the bad guys?”
“Yes.”
“How’s Mikey?”
Kane frowned. “Mikey?”
“The Pope.”
Thurston frowned and said, �
��About that. You actually know Pope Michael?”
“Sure. He’s a nice guy. We go way back. Is he OK?”
“Thanks to Bluey.”
The Australian stepped forward. “How are you feeling, Cobber?”
“Axe glared at him and then asked Kane, “Did he just cuss at me?”
With a chuckle, Kane shook his head. “No, you dumb ox.”
Thurston patted Axe on the arm. “We’ll get out of here and let you get some rest.”
“You’re leaving me on my own?”
“No, Cara is in the bed beside you, and Traynor is down the hall.”
“Pete?”
“Yes, he got his hand cut up.”
“OK.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow. You two get some rest.”
As they walked out of the room door, Kane heard Axe say to Cara, “Did I tell you about the time I was on Guam?”
To which she replied, “Shut up, Axe.”
“Sounds like they’ll get along fine,” Bluey said, laughing.
“Yeah, I have a good team. What about you? Where are you off to?”
“We’re all back to Afghanistan. Unfinished business.”
Kane nodded and held out his hand. “Good luck, Bluey. And thanks for all of your help.”
“It’s been fun. Keep your head down.”
“You too.”
Sangin Valley
Afghanistan
The breaching charge blew, and a pall of dust exploded from the mud walls surrounding it. The sound of grenades exploding the distance reached Bluey’s ears. Beside him, he heard Jacko call, “Frag out!” and he leaned forward and threw the grenade into the opened hole.
With a CRUMP, the thing exploded, and the men of Bluey’s team went in after their target. Movement to Bluey’s right drew his attention, and a short burst from his M4 put the insurgent down. Behind him, he sensed rather than saw Ringa. He went left and cleared the room there.
They worked their way methodically through the compound until almost every part of it was clear, leaving just one more room.