The Hammer of God v-2

by Reginald Cook

  Cardinal Polletto’s thoughts turned to Samuel and his brothers. There was no doubt in his mind that Samuel was the one he and the others awaited. Their lord, the one who would lead them and rule the world, the first-born of the three.

  He knelt down to pray to his god, Lucifer, sweat beading up on his brow. The face of the Black Pope pushed its way into his mind, sending a cold shiver down his spine. Don’t fail!

  Fueled with the renewed vigor that only prayer can bring, the cardinal grabbed the scepter; it’s weight straining the muscles still active in his arms. Arrogance now his guide, Cardinal Polletto examined the flawless, hand-etched carvings on the three-foot alabaster shaft, images of their master’s conquests over the centuries, and a jewel encrusted circle beneath a sold gold lion’s head, which symbolized their master’s true nature.

  Cardinal Polletto took a few deep breaths then headed for the door.

  He stopped and took stock of himself one last time. When he returned, his life and the world would be very different. He opened the door, and Father Sin and Sister Bravo stood waiting.

  “Get the others,” the cardinal said softly, “it’s almost time,” he said, heading down to the Hall of Caesars, where the procession would assemble, head held high, his spirit renewed.

  63

  S amuel, Felipe and Eduardo sat on the floor, staring down at a makeshift layout of the area around the castle. A small plate stood in for the castle, a candle symbolized the woods to the south, and Samuel’s shoe was the shore across the water to the north.

  “Our best chance is to make it to the woods,” said Samuel, his voice low, pointing to the candle. “I’m sure they’ll have guards there, but the darkness will work to our advantage.”

  He used hand gestures and spoke slowly so his brothers could keep up. They had established a routine that enabled them to communicate well with one another. Samuel would point, and Felipe and Eduardo would confirm with nods, answering in French or Italian. Samuel would repeat the word in English, then Felipe and Eduardo would repeat the word again, this time in English. Remembering his school lessons back in Chicago, Samuel had given them a quick phonics lesson, which both boys picked up quickly.

  What Samuel couldn’t explain, not to his brothers or himself, was their ability to understand each other without speech, as though they could read each other’s minds. Sometimes when Samuel spoke, his brothers answered and nodded, as if they fully understood. Other times he would think of something, and Felipe and Eduardo would nod as if they heard him say it out loud. And when they spoke to him in French or Italian, Samuel somehow knew exactly what they meant.

  “We must jump,” said Felipe, pointing to the area in front of the plate that signified the rocks below the castle.

  “Si,” added Eduardo. “Can we make it?”

  “Yes,” answered Samuel abruptly, surprised by the doubt in his brother’s voice. “It’s not that far.”

  Felipe pointed to the area between the woods and the north shore, the area designated as the lake. Samuel had caught a couple of quick glances of the water while Cardinal Polletto talked about their royalty, and their place in the world, and it worried him. The biggest part of their plan included swimming to the other side if they couldn’t get away by land, and even though Samuel was a good swimmer, the size of the lake was intimidating. He wasn’t sure he could make it, but didn’t let it show. He forced a smile.

  “We can make it together,” he told them, confident and assuring, watching their confidence boost. “Once we cross the lake, we’ll make our way back to Rome.”

  Eduardo nodded. “I know the way from trips with my father. We buy eels here.”

  Samuel saw the hurt on Eduardo’s face when he said the word father, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Good,” he said, soothingly. “Be strong. We need you.”

  Eduardo raised his head, determined. “Si, I understand.” Samuel knew getting back to Rome wouldn’t be easy. Once they escaped and swam the lake, they’d have to walk all the way, avoiding the men Cardinal Polletto would certainly send to hunt them down. They’d stay out of sight, off the main roads, and take their time, working their way into the city. Once in Rome, they’d go directly to the American Embassy, and hopefully find someone who’d protect them, and take them home.

  “I saw boats,” said Felipe, pointing to the area along the shore just outside the woods. “Maybe we can use one.”

  “I saw too,” added Eduardo. “Row boats.” Samuel didn’t see the boats. He was too busy trying not to give himself away to Cardinal Polletto, but he believed his brothers. “Good, then we’ll try for a boat, but be ready to swim.” Felipe and Eduardo looked worried. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “If we get caught, what we do?” stammered Felipe. “Cardinal Polletto will hurt us.”

  “Yes,” added Eduardo. “And what of Father Sin? He’ll kill us.” Samuel gritted his teeth. “Don’t worry,” he told them, staring hard into their eyes, “we won’t fail, I promise you, but you must believe.” He smiled, then laughed. Felipe and Eduardo wiped their faces and joined him.

  “Yes,” cried Eduardo, determination now in his voice, “we will make it. I believe you.”

  The three boys hugged. Samuel slipped on his shoe, picked up the candle and plate, and placed them on the table, the vision of his mother elbowing its way into his thoughts. Her image made his knees weak, his legs rubbery. He shook his head, forcing her away, focusing instead on the task he needed to complete.

  “I miss you,” he whispered under his breath. “But I have to do this.” Samuel couldn’t explain it, but somehow in his mind, he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t die. I can make it. I know I can.

  Felipe and Eduardo flopped down on their cots and stared at the ceiling, smiles on their faces, occasionally stealing glimpses at Samuel, who made sure he maintained the picture of confidence. If they were going to escape, they had to do it together. As far as Samuel was concerned, Felipe and Eduardo were his only family now, and he wasn’t going to count on anybody but them.

  Samuel eased down on his own bed and closed his eyes. The one person he hoped he could count on appeared before him; his godfather, Robert Veil. Samuel wondered if his Uncle Robert and Aunt Nikki were still searching for him, or if they’d simply given up. If they were alive, he knew they’d be looking, and Samuel hoped that they’d find him, but didn’t plan on it. It’s just the three of us, he told himself. That’s all we can count on, us. Again, he forced all thoughts, except their escape, from his mind and drifted into a light sleep.

  Soon, he was back in Chicago at a Cubs game with his father. They ate hot dogs, guzzled soft drinks, and stuffed their faces with popcorn.

  Samuel looked into his father’s face and smiled. He was free.

  The chamber door unlatched. Samuel left his dreams behind. When his eyes focused, Felipe and Eduardo were already on their feet. He joined them. Sister Bravo walked inside and lit the candle. Father Sin stood silent in the doorway.

  “It’s time,” said Sister Bravo. She handed each of them a bundle of clothing and black soft sole shoes.

  “Time for what?” asked Samuel, his voice edgy, demanding.

  Father Sin stepped forward, but said nothing, with no sign of anger or meanness on his face. Sister Bravo walked over to Felipe and Eduardo and kissed them each on the cheek. Both of them stepped back and wiped their faces, defiant and unmoved. Sister Bravo smiled, looked down at Samuel, and stroked his face.

  “I’m sorry for putting you through so much,” she told him. “But it was necessary to get you this far.” Samuel stood quiet, fighting the urge to lash out. “I understand Cardinal Polletto told you of your true father,” she continued. “The one from whom your seeds came.” Samuel clinched his fists, but again said nothing. “What you don’t know,” she continued,

  “is that I have just been given permission to tell you who bore you for nine months. Brought you into this world and gave you life.” Sister Bravo kissed both sides of his cheeks. Samuel f
linched. When she pulled away, her eyes were wet, her face proud. “I’m the one who carried you, Samuel. I’m your mother, and the three of you are my sons.” Samuel stood transfixed. He stared hard at Sister Bravo, her words reverberating through his head. She repeated what she said in French and Italian, but Felipe and Eduardo’s faces were already twisted with disbelief.

  “You’re not our mother,” growled Samuel, his eyes boring into hers.

  “I know this comes as a shock,” Sister Bravo said, still smiling, leaning close.

  Samuel swung as hard as he could, slapping her, knocking her to the floor. Father Sin ran over and helped Sister Bravo to her feet. Felipe and Eduardo eased closer to Samuel’s side, heads high, determined.

  “You’re not our mother and you never will be,” sneered Samuel.

  “Never say that to me again.”

  Father Sin pulled the tearful nun back towards the door, both their faces etched with fear.

  “Now, if you’ll leave us, we’ll get dressed,” Samuel ordered, turning his back and heading for his bed.

  Father Sin and Sister Bravo left the room and locked the door; the nun’s sobs audible. Samuel, tense, but under control, directed his brothers to get dressed, and unbundled the blood red vestment and black pants she had given them. He quickly dressed, then grabbed the forks and butter knives they’d hidden under their mattresses to use as weapons. For the first time in his life, Samuel knew he could kill.

  The three boys sat on the edge of their cots and waited. Samuel closed his eyes. Who am I?

  64

  R obert let his eyes roam around the crowded villa, a new location on the opposite side of Rome; a precaution taken at Father Kong’s suggestion.

  Thorne and Nelson were on the other side of the living room, taking inventory of the equipment they’d use during the incursion, including scuba gear and the underwater sea scooters that would pull them underwater from the shore to the castle. Several new faces Father Kong added to the effort were assisting them, making sure every piece of equipment was operational.

  After several intense discussions, Robert and Father Kong had finally come to a compromise on whom and how many people would be involved in the rescue effort. Robert insisted on hiring a team of armed professionals to help encircle the area around the castle, ready to rush in on Robert’s call. He suggested a team of fifty, but Father Kong convinced him that too many might be difficult to insert without notice, so Robert settled for twenty well-armed soldiers with hostage training, all of whom either he or Thorne had worked with in the past.

  The rest of the team was rounded out by twenty-five priests and nuns, all dressed in black assault gear and leather jackets, each with a silver crucifix hanging from their necks, and each hand picked by Father Kong, with Cardinal Maximilian’s blessing. They were trusted members of The Hammer of God, and all were prepared to sacrifice their lives for the moment at hand.

  They were unlike any group Robert had ever seen, which was a tall order, given what he’d witnessed around the world. All of them, nineteen men and six women, were well conditioned, and just as in shape as any of Robert’s people. But their manner was quiet, humble, almost serene, even in the face of obvious danger, where none of them would be armed with so much as a slingshot. Robert admired their faith, but questioned Father Kong’s decision not to carry weapons.

  “We’ll carry the sword of faith,” the priest had told him.

  “I’d rather you totted a machine gun,” Robert had said, but the priest only smiled and assured Robert that they’d be armed with something much greater than bullets.

  “In the spirit, more of them are with us then there are with them,” Father Kong said.

  Robert took another look at the Bracciano Castle floor plans Father Kong had retrieved from the Vatican Archives. To his surprise, it not only gave a complete outline of every nook and secret passage in the building, but also included a series of diagrams, outlining an extensive underground system of tunnels, including three entrances accessible underwater.

  “Everything’s in order,” said Father Kong, stepping up beside Robert. “I’ve gone over the details again with my people. We’re ready.”

  “Good,” said Robert, his eyes fixed on the castle diagram. “Let’s go over the plan one more time to be sure.” He pointed to the spots alongside the road into Bracciano, where both Robert and Father Kong’s people would be posted; some alongside the road, others inside the woods and trees. Additional teams would situate themselves in the woods directly behind the castle, and inside several homes Father Kong’s people had commandeered in the quiet village. Reynolds would join one of the teams inside one of the houses closest to the castle, ready to get there first when the final call came.

  “The closer we get, the higher probability we’ll encounter The Order and those with them,” Father Kong said.

  Robert agreed, and instructed his people to quietly neutralize any threat, but be ready to kill if necessary. He had no idea how many men The Order might employ, but guessed that they probably didn’t want to disrupt the ritual with a violent shootout, unless they believed all was lost.

  “Thorne and I will approach the castle from the shore on the north side of the lake,” said Robert, pointing to Trevignano. “We’ll scuba dive to the tunnels under the building and enter. Once we’re inside, we’ll notify everyone on the radio.”

  The castle diagram showed three tunnels, but at least one, maybe two, were now sealed according to Father Kong’s source. To make sure they got in, Robert and Thorne would haul an underwater laser to cut through bars or steel plates if needed. It would slow them down, but there was no other choice.

  “Once you’re inside, everybody will take up their secondary position,” said Father Kong.

  “Correct. Once we locate Samuel and the other boys, we’ll all converge on the castle,” said Robert.

  Father Kong stroked his chin. “I must make a last appeal that we limit any violence and deaths. Cardinal Maximilian insists.” Robert faced the priest as everyone in the room turned to listen.

  “Again, I understand, but killing might be necessary. If The Order will hire the mafia, they’ll do anything.”

  “We must make room for God. He’ll make a way,” said Father Kong.

  “That way may be by the bullet,” answered Robert, glaring over at the others. “But I’ve instructed my people to use caution, and they’ll be armed with the tranquilizer darts. It’s the best I can do.” Father Kong nodded his consent, smiled and walked away. Thorne took his place.

  “Everything’s ready to go,” she said. “I secured our weapons in waterproof sacks and tested the underwater laser. That thing could slice through the hull of a battleship.”

  “Make sure you tell our people to go easy on the trigger,” said Robert. “I want them safe, but careful.”

  “That may work going in,” answered Thorne. “And I know these priests and nuns want everybody to come out alive, but let’s be real.

  Some of those assholes are going to die tonight, especially if I have anything to do with it.”

  Robert knew better than to argue with her. “Whatever it takes to get Samuel out of there is fine with me,” he said.

  Thorne smiled, handed him two nine-millimeter automatics, and went back to recheck the details with their team. The front door opened.

  One of Father Kong’s people entered carrying a single envelope, and handed it to the priest.

  When Father Kong finished, he gave the letter to Robert. “It’s from the Holy Father.” Robert took the folded paper, but didn’t open it. Father Kong took a deep breath. “Cardinal Maximilian informed him that the time was at hand, and he wanted to offer a few words of support.” Robert unfolded the note and read it to himself as everybody watched in silence. The longer he read, the harder his heart pounded. His eyes narrowed, his forehead wrinkled. The Pope’s words ignited his spirit. When he finished, as the note instructed, Robert pulled a lighter from his pocket, set the paper on fire, placed it in a
n ashtray, and then faced everyone in the room.

  “Tonight, we must be at our best. Many lives are at stake; ours, three little boys, and possibly untold millions. Be brave, courageous, and let’s have everybody come home alive,” said Robert.

  Father Kong stood, serious, panning the room. “Those of you with Il Martello di Dio know our charge. First Peter, Chapter Five, Verse Eight.

  We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed. We are perplexed, but not in despair, persecuted, but not forsaken.” He then lowered his head and prayed.

  When he finished, Robert nodded to Thorne, who barked out last minute instructions. Everyone gathered up their equipment and went outside. Detective Reynolds pulled Thorne to the side, gave her a long, passionate kiss then joined his team in one of the vans.

  Robert, Thorne, Father Kong, and two others piled inside a black SUV. Each squad left in fifteen-minute intervals, Robert not wanting a parade. When they reached the main rode out of Rome, Robert relaxed and let his mind go. For ten miles nobody spoke. Father Kong’s cell phone broke the silence. Ten seconds into his conversation, the priest’s face went flush with horror.

  “My God!” he cried, tears in his eyes. Robert’s back straightened.

  Father Kong put his head in his hands. “My God, my God!” he bellowed and sobbed.

  “What is it?” asked Robert, anxious.

  Father Kong lifted his head, eyes red, bottom lip trembling. “It’s the Holy Father, the Pope. He’s dead.”