Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God

by Reginald Cook

  Several times, panicked children pulled him under, almost causing him to drown, but each time Samuel punched his way free and clawed back to the surface, amongst terrified screams, wet fleshy mounds, some dead, others wiggling desperately.

  He finally gathered himself and swam away from the crowd towards Trevignano, just as he and his brothers planned. Along the way, he searched the faces of dying, drowning children, knowing he would see Eduardo or Felipe. We can’t die. You’re my only family now, and without you, I’d rather be dead.

  Samuel swam clear of the crowd, but could still hear splashing and crying. Mixed in the noise, he thought he heard someone call his name, but ignored it. Arm tired, legs weak, Samuel moved slowly across the lake, his energy almost gone. He ripped off the heavy robe, but it only helped a little, and he struggled to keep going.

  “Samuel! Samuel!” he heard a weak voice call.

  Samuel turned. Felipe, with Eduardo at his side, swam up to him, both crying with joy. The three floated in the water, hugging and kissing each other on the cheek.

  “We made it,” said Eduardo, holding Samuel tight.

  Samuel felt a surge of energy. “Yes. Now let’s get to shore. We can make it the rest of the way.”

  The three boys swam hard toward the shore. Samuel’s body throbbed with pain, but he didn’t care. He kicked and pulled at the water even harder, with Felipe and Eduardo on each side.

  Thirty minutes later, Samuel saw the dark outline of Trevignano and its hillside cottages. He smiled, then laughed. We made it!

  Samuel and his brothers lumbered out of the lake, fell down in the sand, and threw up lake water and bile. Samuel felt the muscles in his legs knot up, and his stomach cramp. Felipe and Eduardo cried out in pain. Samuel relaxed. The pain continued, but his mind floated elsewhere. He’d lost everything and everyone he ever cared about.

  Everybody he trusted had let him down, and now, right there on the beach, Samuel changed forever. I’ll never trust anyone outside of my brothers again.

  He stood. “We have to keep moving. Let’s go.”

  “Where?” asked Felipe. “We have nowhere to go.”

  “We’ll make a way,” Samuel told them, confident and sure. “But we have to get away from here now.”

  Felipe and Eduardo pulled themselves up, and the three of them walked into Trevignano, which was dark and deserted, except for a few lights in scattered houses on the hillside.

  “Rome is this way,” said Eduardo, pointing.

  The boys walked toward Rome, making sure they stayed off the road, close to the thick brush.

  “We’ll get as close as we can,” said Samuel. “When the sun comes up, we’ll hide in the woods and sleep until nightfall.” His brothers nodded their heads in agreement.

  Suddenly, an old man appeared out of the woods, startling the three of them. Next to him, stood a tall, much younger man, with arms that bulged and stretched his black knit sweater.

  “You boys are out quite late,” said the old man. “And you’re wet.

  Swimming this time of night?”

  “What business is it of yours?” shot Samuel.

  The old man smiled. “You made it out alive, so you are my business,” he told them.

  Samuel looked at the frail old man curiously. There was something familiar about him that he couldn’t place. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  The old man moved closer. “It means that if you chose, you can come with me, where you’ll be free and safe.”

  “And if we don’t?” asked Samuel, calm and cool.

  “Then life will be much harder for you,” said the old man. “You made it from the lake, so you will not die, that I can assure you. But why take the hard road? Mine is much softer and easy.”

  “We don’t know you,” said Samuel. “How can we trust you?” The old man walked toward them. Eduardo and Felipe stepped back.

  Samuel calmed them with a touch.

  “Come with me, and you’re free to leave anytime you find the situation unpleasing. You have my word.”

  “How do you know who we are?” asked Samuel.

  “I know because I need to know,” said the old man.

  “We don’t even know your name,” said Samuel, taking a step closer.

  “I have many names,” the old man told him. “But you can call me grandfather, because I’ll never do anything but take care of you.” Samuel stood silent, thinking. The old man walked over to a black car, with pitch-black tinted windows. The tall man opened the back door.

  The old man looked back.

  “I’ll wait for ten minutes. If you don’t come with me now, I’m sure we’ll meet again sometime in the future.” He slid inside and closed the door.

  “What will we do?” asked Felipe.

  “We should go our own way,” said Eduardo. “He looks evil.” Samuel thought, b ut it feels right. He looked at his brothers. “We have nothing to lose. If we don’t like it, we’ll run.” Felipe and Eduardo took deep breaths. Felipe stepped closer to Samuel. “I’m not sure, but I’m with you.” Eduardo put a hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “We are we, and always will be.” He smiled.

  Samuel hugged both of them, then walked over to the old man’s window and knocked on the glass. The door opened. Samuel and his brothers slid inside. The car started and headed down the dark road.

  “If you lie to us, we’ll not only leave, we’ll find a way to kill you,” said Samuel, sure and matter-of-fact.

  The old man smiled. “I would expect nothing less. Now rest. We have much to do ahead of us.”

  Samuel closed his eyes, and left his past behind him.

  72

  Father Kong leaned down and helped Robert out of the water, as more of The Hammer of God members, along with Robert’s men, jumped in and helped pull children out of the water, most of them dead or near death.

  “I couldn’t find Samuel or his brothers,” said Robert, exhausted and frustrated.

  “Let’s check the children above,” said Father Kong, wrapping a blanket around Robert’s shoulders.

  Up on the stage, the bodies of dead members of The Order, armed guards hired by Cardinal Polletto, and several of Robert’s men, were lined up in a row of death.

  More of Robert’s team set up guard posts around the area, as Father Kong’s people inspected the dead, said prayers, and tended to the wounded. On the right side of the stage were rows of dead children, their bodies covered with white sheets. Robert leaned over the rail and vomited. A soft hand patted his back. Thorne and Detective Reynolds stood behind him, barely a scratch on either one of them.

  “Did you find him?” Thorne asked, her eyes hopeful.

  “No,” answered Robert. “We’re about to look at the bodies up here. I didn’t see Samuel or his brothers below.” He looked his partner over.

  “You guys okay?”

  “We’re fine,” said the detective, giving Robert a hug. “But I’m gonna be sore as hell in the morning.”

  “I’m solid,” said Thorne. “Killed a few, including a woman who gave me hell, but I’m good.”

  “That was Sister Maria Bravo,” said Father Kong, sadness in his voice. “She worked directly for Cardinal Polletto.” Robert looked over at the priest. “Is the cardinal?”

  “Yes, he’s dead,” said Father Kong. “Stabbed to death.”

  “And Father Tolbert?” Robert asked.

  “The bastard’s over there,” said Thorne, pointing. “I took care of him myself.”

  Father Tolbert, a crazed look in his dead eyes, was laid back over Cardinal Polletto’s body, head tilted back, throat cut wide open.

  Robert took a deep breath and started over toward the dead children.

  Thorne grabbed his arm.

  “Robert.” He turned. Compassion filled Thorne’s face. “Alison’s dead,” she said.

  Robert dropped his head. Even though she had betrayed them all, it still hurt. This whole thing stinks. “How?” he asked.

  “She got caught in the crossfire w
hen our people rushed inside,” said Thorne. “The Order’s people started shooting, and our people answered.

  I don’t know who hit her, but she took two small caliber shots to the head.”

  They killed her. Robert turned abruptly. “Let’s get this over with.” He walked over to the covered children and lifted the first sheet.

  Thorne, Detective Reynolds and Father Kong spread out and did the same. Why? Why do this? Each innocent face seemed to reach inside and suck a little life out of him. Almost every nationality was represented amongst the dead; Indian, Chinese, African, Middle-Eastern. They must have taken them from all over the world.

  Father Kong, Detective Reynolds and Thorne walked over as Robert examined the last body.

  “They’re not here,” said Thorne.

  “Maybe they’re still in the water,” said Father Kong. “We can get a closer look in the morning.”

  “No,” snapped Robert, tears in his eyes. “I’m going back in tonight.” Father Kong opened his mouth to speak, but Thorne held up her hand. “I’ll go back in with you, partner. I’ll get our underwater gear so we can get a closer look. I’ll meet you down on the rocks.” Robert nodded. “Thanks, partner.”

  Thorne gave Robert a firm hug, then grabbed Detective Reynolds and headed for the castle.

  Father Kong placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I’ll go down with you.”

  As they walked, a sinking feeling of complete dread exploded inside Robert. He fell to his knees and cried. “He’s gone! I’ll never see him again!”

  Father Kong knelt down and prayed. When he finished, he helped Robert to his feet. “I know how difficult this is for you. Remember Sister Isabella and the others who have died in this effort. But also remember, you have stopped a great evil tonight, and millions will live because of it.”

  Robert heard the words, but they rang hollow. He wanted Samuel back in his arms. I’d give a million lives to have him back.

  73

  The following day, and for three months after, members of Il Martello di Dio, along with Robert and Thorne, dragged Bracciano Lake, searching for Samuel and his brothers, but found nothing except for the mangled body of an old man named Giovanni Telfair, and two wrecked vehicles.

  Hoping the boys had escaped somehow, Robert, Thorne and Father Kong searched Rome and the surrounding area, using every contact and resource at their disposal, but found nothing.

  Detective Reynolds stayed for the first two weeks then headed back to Chicago. Robert had never seen Thorne happier.

  Director Thompson showed up with questions Robert wouldn’t answer, but he didn’t press the matter. He offered CIA resources if they were needed. Robert declined.

  Now, he and Thorne sat in front of Cardinal Maximilian, now known as Pope Pius VX. The first Pontiff of African-American decent in Roman Catholic history. Father Kong stood by the new Bishop of Rome’s side.

  “We’ll never forget you,” said the new Pope. “Here at the Vatican, you have a friend.”

  “Thank you, Your Excellency,” said Robert, proud to see a man he respected sitting in the seat in front of him. “If you ever need us, we’re here for you also.”

  “Thank you. Father Kong will now lead Il Martello di Dio. We’ll stay in touch through him.”

  “Why keep The Hammer of God going?” asked Thorne. “I thought this put The Order down for good.”

  “It hurt them, but we fear they still have an ember of life. Father Sin and several of the others managed to escape,” said Father Kong. “And where there’s a small fire, a raging inferno looms.” Robert shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “If you ever get word of Samuel, anything, please let us know.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” said the Pope, standing, extending his hand. They said their goodbyes, and Robert and Thorne headed for the door. “God be with you,” said the Holy Father. “His favor and His blessings.”

  Robert turned and smiled. “And also with you.” When Robert and Thorne were gone, Father Kong sat down in front of the Pope’s desk. “Holy Father, shouldn’t we tell them?”

  “Tell them what?” asked the Pope. “We have no real proof.”

  “But the chance of all three going missing is almost impossible.”

  “Yes, and I too believe they’re alive, but we have nothing firm.” Pope Pius stroked his chin. “Deep down, I’m sure Mr. Veil feels the same. Keep an eye on him. If he finds the boy, we need to be there.”

  “Yes, Holy Father. I understand.”

  Epilogue

  High in the snow drenched mountains of Switzerland, an old man sat on the porch of his private retreat, rocking back and forth in his chair. He watched three boys playing in the snow, each of them snug and warm in new snowsuits; one wearing blue, one red, and the last green, making it easy for the Black Pope to identify them from a distance.

  Already a year after coming to live with him, the boys showed even more promise than he first realized. Each of them had developed a special skill. One showed extreme depth of thought, one brilliant strategy, and the last, a magnificent writer and orator. All three picked up languages with ease. Math, history and science seemed like playthings in their hands.

  But one of the boys, the child in the red snowsuit, now on his back making an angel in the white powder, possessed a trait that the Black Pope and his people had waited for over a decade to boast about.

  The Black Pope had watched the child grow stronger each day, directing the other two boys as a general would his troops. Marvelous.

  The leader, the boy in red will one day rule the world.

  Samuel ran up the stairs. “Grandfather, come play with us. We’re going to build a snowman.”

  The Black Pope smiled. “Let me sit for awhile and rest. I’ll play with you a little later.”

  Samuel gave the old man a hug and jumped down the stairs. He headed back toward Eduardo and Felipe, then stopped and turned. “And thanks for the new snowsuit, Grandfather. Blue’s my favorite color,” he said.

  PREVIEW

  BLOOD

  A NOVEL BY

  REGINALD COOK

  © Copyright 2011

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Blood by Reginald Cook. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect content of the forthcoming edition.

  Prologue

  Abdul Aziz Muhammad pushed his seat back as soon as the pilot turned off the seatbelt sign, and announced that it was safe to move about the cabin. Not long after, he felt the Boeing 707 level off and cruise at what the pilot said was forty thousand feet. The passengers were informed that the flight would be a smooth one, with clear skies and cooperative weather all the way to Washington D.C., his final destination.

  Abdul’s business in Los Angeles had gone well, but he still had much to do, and couldn’t completely rest, even though he’d been awake for nearly seventy-two hours. A tightness in his stomach gnawed at him.

  He rubbed his belly, took a deep cleansing breath and the cramps subsided.

  “I know how you feel,” said a woman’s soft voice from the isle seat next to him.

  Abdul opened his eyes, and the gentle gaze of an elderly woman, the perfect picture of a grandmother, smiled back at him.

  “I don’t quite care for flying either,” she continued. “But my son thought it would be nice for me to get out of Virginia and see the grandkids.”

  Abdul was in no mood for small talk, but forced a smile. “Thank you,” he said. “It gives me comfort to know I’m not alone.” The elderly woman extended her hand. “Norma,” she told him.

  “Norma Jennings.” Abdul sat up, introduced himself, and gently shook Norma’s hand. “Were you in Los Angeles visiting?” she inquired.

  “No, business,” Abdul answered, his smile fading as he remembered the task at hand.

  Norma’s face went flush. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Abdul took her hand and stroked it. “No, no, forgive my rudeness.

&n
bsp; I’m just a little tired. I need a good night’s sleep.” Norma made small talk with him for the next thirty minutes. As she droned on about her grandkids, her dead husband and her children, Abdul feigned interest, but inside, the pressure of his mission, his task, loomed large and heavy. It took everything in him to keep from shaking uncontrollably.

  Abdul excused himself and headed for the bathroom. He doused his face with cold water, sat down on the toilet, head in his hands, and gathered himself. When he agreed to the meeting in Los Angeles, he didn’t expect to be hit with so much, so fast. He dried his face. Soon it’ll be over, he thought. I’ll make contact with Robert Veil and Nikki Thorne in Washington, pass on the information provided by my associates in Los Angeles, and my duty will be done. His mind drifted to his wife, Elise, and their ten year old twins, Rommel and Maxine.

  The plane shook hard, almost throwing Abdul to the floor. The seatbelt sign appeared with a simultaneous ding, and the captain asked everyone to take their seats. When Abdul reached his, he found Norma, eyes closed, gripping the armrests like her life was at stake.

  Abdul touched her shoulder, and this time, he comforted her with a smile. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “it’s just a little turbulence. It’ll pass soon.”

  Norma gave a nervous smile, and again, pressed her eyelids tight.

  Abdul fastened his seatbelt and looked out at the noon day sky. He smiled. He’d done the world a great service, and was sure Allah would smile on him.

  A bright flash and a loud explosion slapped him out of his trance.

  The plane rocked back and forth, tossing several passengers, who had obviously ignored the seatbelt sign, around the cabin like confetti.

  Screams filled the cabin as the plane nosed downward. Abdul looked over at Norma, who clutched her chest, face purple, tongue protruding, eyes bulging.