The Sacred Weapon: A Tom Wagner Adventure

by Roberts, M. C.

  “There’s just one problem,” Hellen piped up. “Tom, they’ll recognize you in there. It’s like Noah said: this whole event has been planned by Atlas, and there are Cobra guys in there, too. If they see you in the church, it’s all over. Even Noah said you have to keep your head down.”

  “Then I will wear the cassock, and you and I will just have to do it on our own,” Cloutard said to her grimly.

  Sister Lucrezia did not look particularly convinced, but she looked at the group around her and finally came around. “They say that the end justifies the means. Our bus is only a block from here. You can change there.”

  Just then, Cloutard’s phone rang. It was Noah on the line. Cloutard handed the phone to Tom.

  “Tom, I’ve found a way to get you inside the restricted area. Meet me at the corner of Carrer de Mallorca and Carrer de Lepant in ten minutes. I can leave my post for a moment. I have extra earpieces, too, so we can stay in touch.”

  “Okay,” Tom said. He hung up and turned to the others. “We split up here. I’ll find Noah and get the equipment. You get changed. I’ll meet you inside and bring earpieces for you.”

  Hellen and Cloutard went with the nuns while Tom made his way to the corner where he’d arranged to meet with Noah. He crossed Avinguda Diagonal, a little surprised to see that the Cessna was still standing where he’d left it. A few helpless-looking policemen were standing around, but they obviously had more important things to do just then than babysit an abandoned seaplane. The road was closed anyway, so arranging to have it towed away was not so simple.

  Tom smiled when he spotted Noah at the corner of Carrer de Valencia. He went to his friend and hugged him. “Thanks for all the times you’ve dug me out of the shit in the last few days,” Tom said.

  “You know what you really need, Tom? A angel to sit on your shoulder and tell you what not to do. I think we can forget about you ever actually growing up. They send you on vacation and in the blink of an eye you turn it into an assassination attempt on the Pope. Nice work, buddy.” Still in their embrace, he patted Tom on the shoulder. They looked at each other in silence for a short moment.

  “Okay, enough mushy stuff,” said Noah, breaking the silence. “Here’s your pass. You won’t have full access, but that will at least get you through security. There are a few Cobra people inside, like I said, especially in the basilica itself, so make sure no one sees you. You’re still a wanted man.”

  Tom nodded, took the pass and lanyard, and slung it round his neck.

  “There’s a guy from the counter-terrorism center in Hungary next to me in the ops center. I stole his jacket. It’ll help you move around more freely.”

  Tom put on the jacket. “TEK/CTC” was printed on the back, the abbreviation for the Hungarian anti-terrorism unit.

  “The Hungarians are a mess. They’re the least likely to notice if an unfamiliar face is running around in one of their jackets,” Noah said dryly as he opened a small flight case. “Last but not least, the earpieces.” Inside the case were several earpieces embedded in styrofoam. He put one of the earplugs in his ear and handed the case to Tom, who did the same. Then he tapped a few buttons on his tablet. and looked at Tom.

  “Say a few words,” Noah told him.

  “A few words,” Tom said with a grin.

  “Oh, you’re hilarious,” said Noah. “Okay, we’re good to go, you’re online. Give the others to Hellen and Cloutard,” said Noah. “Let’s get going. I’ll give you the standard kit inside, once you’re through the checkpoint. You never know.”

  In the meantime, Hellen and Cloutard had visited the nuns’ van with the hapless Father Giacomo and had exchanged clothes.

  “Father Giacomo, that suit, hat and walking stick really suit you,” Sister Lucrezia said. Father Giacomo smiled benignly. Hellen, wearing Sister Renata’s habit, headed for the security checkpoint with the cassocked Cloutard and the nuns.

  “What do we do while we’re waiting?” Father Giacomo called after them.

  “Don’t attract any attention,” Sister Lucrezia called back, and set off with the others.

  Two blocks away, they reached the security checkpoint, which they passed without a hitch. Hellen passed through the metal detector and spotted Tom in the crowd on the other side.

  “We should split up. It’s the best chance we’ve got.” Tom gave Hellen and Cloutard an earpiece each.

  “None for us?” complained Sister Bartolomea.

  Sister Lucrezia narrowed her eyes at her young charge. “We have done enough already. We are servants of the Lord, not secret agents.”

  Tom agreed with her. “I already owe you more than I can repay. We have to leave now. I’m going to meet Noah for a minute to get another pistol.”

  The nuns were shocked. “Tom, this is a sacred place!” Sister Lucrezia said. “You’re not going to start blasting away in here, I hope?”

  “Not if I can help it. But we’re here to stop an assassin from murdering the Holy Father.”

  Sister Lucrezia nodded. Then Tom went in search of Noah, and the rest of the group headed for the main entrance of the Sagrada Familia.

  62

  Plaza in front of the main entrance, Sagrada Familia

  “Oh my God! There’s Count Palffy!”

  Hellen tapped Cloutard on the shoulder and pointed urgently toward the main entrance, where a small stage with a lectern had been set up on the stairs, intended for the Pope’s blessing after mass. It was surrounded by security guards and crowded with cardinals and other personages. The Pope himself was standing at the back of the stage. Palffy approached the lectern, where a microphone had been installed. He held something in his hand, but from where Hellen was, she could not see it clearly.

  “My God, François,” Hellen cried. “What if Palffy plans to carry out the assassination right here and doesn’t even wait for the mass? We have to get to the stage!” She was already pushing her way through the crowd when Palffy began to speak.

  “Holy Father, it is my very great honor to be able to announce that we at Blue Shield and UNESCO have been able to recover all of the sacred relics stolen in recent weeks.”

  Spontaneous applause and cheering interrupted Palffy, and he waited a few seconds for the clamor to subside. He was obviously enjoying the moment.

  “I have the honor to present to Your Holiness the Shroud of Turin, as symbolic of all the precious relics. The other treasures are safe and will be returned to their respective homes within the next few days.”

  The Pope nodded gratefully and accepted the leather roll that apparently contained the Shroud of Turin from Palffy. He took a step toward Palffy and leaned close to say a few personal words of thanks.

  “My God! Palffy’s only inches away from him,” Hellen hissed to Cloutard. “Now’s his chance!” She was now standing directly in front of the stage, where a line of security men blocked her way. “He’s going to try to kill the pope, right now!” she shouted at one of the security men, but the man did not even flinch. He looked as if he hadn’t even heard what she said, because the cheering at the handing over of the Shroud drowned out Hellen’s voice. Cloutard was now standing behind her.

  “Hellen, I do not think Palffy has any intention of murdering the Pope himself.”

  Cloutard pointed up at the stage. Palffy was just taking his leave of the Holy Father, and now turned toward the Sagrada Familia. The Pope handed the Shroud to one of his aides and also retired to the basilica to prepare himself for the mass. Hellen furrowed her brow. She looked at Cloutard in confusion.

  “That would have been the perfect opportunity. What are they planning?” Hellen said.

  Cloutard shook his head. “I have no idea. I can only hope that we have been entirely mistaken about an assassination attempt. We had better find seats inside.” Cloutard activated his earpiece. “Tom, we are going inside. We’ve just seen Palffy and the Pope in front of the basilica,” he said. He updated Tom on what they had seen.

  “All right,” Tom replied. “Make sur
e you keep an eye on Palffy.”

  The church began to fill. Nine thousand people fit into the Sagrada Familia, and every last seat would be filled that day. People streamed in through the side entrances as well. Everything was orderly, though there was no particular seating arrangement apart from a few rows at the front. Hellen and Cloutard tried to find seats as far forward as possible. They had lost contact with Sister Lucrezia and the other nuns outside the church.

  “Hellen, we should separate. We would do best to watch from different perspectives,” suggested Cloutard.

  “I agree.” Hellen touched her earpiece. “Tom, where are you?”

  “Outside, looking for Guerra. François is right. Palffy had his opportunity, but he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty. We have to keep our eyes peeled for Guerra. Ossana, too,” Tom said.

  Cloutard, by now some distance from Hellen, nodded and pointed toward the front of the basilica. “Palffy’s there.”

  Hellen looked where Cloutard was pointing and saw the count seated in the second row, apparently reserved for VIPs. The area was cordoned off, and security was everywhere. Sitting around Palffy, Hellen recognized celebrities, politicians, business leaders. Neither Hellen nor Cloutard paid any attention to the inconspicuous man in simple priestly garb who had taken a seat next to Palffy.

  Hellen and Cloutard found seats several rows apart. Moments later, the organ began to play and the mass for the Rite of Dedication began. The Pope stepped up to the altar, flanked by a large number of cardinals.

  “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” the Holy Father began.

  Hellen’s eyes scanned the basilica incessantly, searching for suspicious faces. Around the Pope, on all sides, stood a veritable army of cardinals, dignitaries, altar boys, and—of course—security. Hellen was looking toward the altar and almost cried out in horror when she saw him. One of the security men, standing directly beside the altar, had just raised a hand to his ear and was speaking into his headset. She recognized him instantly: Jacinto Guerra.

  63

  Atlas Mobile Command Center, a park behind the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

  Noah had returned to the Command Center. Brand new, over eighty feet long and fifteen high, the monstrous mobile headquarters had been designed especially for Atlas operations and was packed with state-of-the-art technology. Black and heavily armored, the monstrous vehicle was unique in Europe; it looked like the offspring of an armored troop carrier and a freight train. On the roof were several satellite dishes, each of which could be fully retracted to allow the truck to reach its impressive top speed of almost 130 miles per hour. Today’s operation was to be its baptism by fire.

  As he rolled up the ramp into the huge mobile computer center, Noah felt as if he was in a science fiction movie. He rolled past the first two workstations until he reached his own and quickly brought himself up to speed. Countless monitors of all sizes covered the left wall, showing aerial views, infrared images, and feeds from various surveillance cameras and body cams. Thank God this thing’s got good air-conditioning, he thought. All that equipment could make this place uncomfortably hot very quickly.

  The situation was tense, but everything was unfolding according to plan. Each of the team of six in the Command Center was responsible for keeping track of a different section of the church and surrounding area via monitors. Noah was responsible for communications—his job was to make sure everyone was where they should be.

  “What did the subway check turn up? Anyone or anything suspicious? Any vehicles from the Autoritat del Transport Metropolità?” Noah asked.

  “Nothing. What did you expect?” said Tamás, the Hungarian officer sitting next to Noah. He sighed. “You got a bad tip. Once again, all the effort and expense is way out of proportion to the threat. Just think how much money we’re burning here just to guard a few people. The things you could do with that . . .” He insinuated a female figure in the air with his hands.

  “Typical Tamás,” said Michelle Dubois, a colleague from France’s Groupe d’Intervention de la Gendarmerie nationale. “Poor boy, that you have to spend a lot of money for that.” Her figure was close to the outline Tamás had just made in the air. Tamás’s eyes followed her as she went to the door. “I’m signing out for ten minutes,” Michelle said without turning back. “I have to visit the little girls’ room. And Tamás? You can stop staring at my ass any time now.” She knew him well enough by now.

  You want me to come along? Tamás almost said, but he managed to keep the thought to himself. He really didn’t feel like having a #metoo discussion with his captain. He turned his attention back to the screen in front of him.

  Noah smiled. “She’s not your type, anyway,” he said, patting Tamás on the shoulder.

  Michelle opened the door and found herself face to face with a woman wearing the uniform of the Autoritat del Transport Metropolità. The woman shoved her back into the bus, stepped inside and swung the door shut behind her. Even before Michelle hit the floor, the woman had drawn her suppressed Heckler & Koch and put a bullet between Tamás’s eyes. Noah turned around but could only watch as the woman, without a moment’s hesitation, murdered his other three colleagues with perfectly targeted shots. For a brief moment, the trailer fell completely silent. The only sound was the radio traffic in Noah’s ear, like a ghostly whisper in the air. Noah stared at the woman. He had never seen Ossana before, but from Tom’s and Cloutard’s descriptions he knew this must be her. She pressed the hot suppressor to Michelle’s forehead and disarmed her. Michelle grimaced in pain but didn’t make a sound. Ossana stared intently at Noah.

  “One false move and she dies.”

  Noah had no reason to doubt Ossana. He did not move. Not because he felt any particular pangs of conscience for his French colleague—they were all professionals, after all, and life-threatening situations were part of the job. Noah just didn’t want to risk Michelle’s life without a plan—something that Ossana, unlike Noah, obviously had.

  “Listen to me carefully,” Ossana said. “You will inform all agents, one by one, that there has been a bomb threat and that the mass has to be interrupted. You will remove each agent from their post. You will issue them with new orders—each one individually, so that every agent will hear only their specific order.”

  Noah nodded. Ossana handed him a sheet of paper with instructions, but he could already see what she was up to. She aimed a second pistol at his head.

  “Get started.”

  Noah began to call each of the officers, informing them of the bomb threat and assigning them a new post based on the list Ossana had given him. What Ossana didn’t notice, however, was that Noah had opened the lines to Tom, Hellen and Cloutard as well. They could hear every word of his instructions.

  64

  Inside the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

  Tom had slipped cautiously into the interior of the basilica. He reasoned that each of the security agents had specific orders and was focused on a certain section of the site, so he would not attract any undue attention and could easily study what was going on.

  Without warning, however, he suddenly heard Noah’s voice in his ear—but Noah did not seem to be speaking to him. He listened, quickly realizing that Noah was in trouble. Just as quickly, he also knew they had not been mistaken. Something very big was going down, and now it was up to him, Hellen and Cloutard to throw a wrench into Guerra’s and Ossana’s diabolical plan. He ran through his options. It would take some time for Noah to remove all the agents from their posts, which gave Tom a small window of time in which to get to the Command Center and stop it before it gathered any momentum. If enough of the security guards remained where they were, the situation would have no chance to escalate at all. Tom began to make his way outside.

  “I’m on my way to help Noah,” he said in a low voice, informing Hellen and Cloutard. Heading for the exit, he noticed a wave of unrest start to ripple through the church. People stared at their phones and whispered to each other.

>   Just as Tom was about to leave the basilica, he stopped. He heard someone cry out, “A bomb. There was a bomb at the public viewing.”

  Moments later a second person jumped up and shouted, “There’s been a bomb threat in here, too. We’re all in danger!”

  The Pope interrupted his sermon and looked out in dismay at his audience. The cardinals around him were whispering nervously. The murmurings of the congregation grew louder, and Tom recognized Count Palffy, who now had his phone in his hand and was saying something to the man seated next to him. A woman jumped up and screamed, “Fire! The Sagrada Familia is on fire!”

  That was the final straw. From one second to the next, panic broke out. Smoke began to rise into the nave from the crypt below, directly beneath the altar. As if a switch had been flipped, chaos erupted. People jumped up from their seats and tried to push their way outside as fast as they could. Images of Notre Dame burning were still fresh in everyone’s memory, and the fear ran deep. Within seconds, it seemed as if those gathered inside completely forgot the meaning of Christian charity: they jostled and shoved; people fell and were trampled. All anyone was interested in was saving themselves, and to hell with everyone else. Everyone wanted to get away as quickly as possible. Collateral damage was someone else’s problem.

  Radio communication was impossible. Tom could barely hear himself think, let alone speak. He could forget about stopping Ossana. Tom hated himself for his decision, but Noah had to deal with his situation himself. Tom began to battle his way through the crowd. He had to get to the altar. Most of the security people were long gone from their posts, and the Pope was in mortal danger.

  65