Sinners and Saints

by Rick Jones

  “Like I said: If she’s there, we’ll find her.”

  Bauer hoped that the circumstantial evidence would be sufficient enough to lead them to the child. Not only was Emily Bosshart the key that would keep her father operational for hostile factions, she was also the key to informing Bauer what he would need to know in order to defuse the situation. It was a matter that could go either way, for the good of the terrorists or for the good of law enforcement. There was no area in between that was gray or neutral. So the thing to do was to remove the key entirely, thereby removing the advantage over Bosshart.

  “We’ll be in touch within thirty mikes,” Leviticus told Bauer. And then he was gone along with his team of Vatican Knights, the unit triple-timing their way to the theater of operation.

  Chapter Forty

  Kimball Hayden took the rungs of the ladder with one MP7 draped across his back, and another in his hand which was directed downward at the platform, perhaps searching for targets that never appeared. When Kimball touched down on the landing, he peered into G-car to take immediate appraisal of the current situation. Three hostiles remained with one appearing to decipher what to do next, an alteration in planning. And Kimball determined this man to be the team leader. Then the commander—who was clutching Bosshart’s coat by the shoulder with the fabric bleeding through his clenched fingers, and was unwittingly tugging at Bosshart by tossing the man about his feet, but managing somehow to keep his balance—spoke excitedly to his teammates. This was showing Kimball that the man was beginning to lose his cool.

  “You screwed up, didn’t you?” Kimball said softly to no one particular. You miscalculated the chain of events; the speed of the train to the entry of the tunnel’s pass. The train moved up the incline much faster than you anticipated, shaving time off your calculations, stranding you.

  But Kimball knew that the train would exit the mouth soon, and that another helicopter remained in flight, a Mil Mi-24 that could circumvent the mountain and meet them on the other side. It’ll be there waiting for you, he considered further. So now you’re conferring about Plan B.

  He looked at Bosshart and saw the terror etched onto his face like a tattoo, the way lines and creases had a way of sketching certain moments and hardships to a man’s face that would last a lifetime.

  Then Kimball backed away with a plan formulating in his mind, the measure of a good soldier who knew that the odds were against him, but was willing to level the playing field. Slowly, he fell back into H-Car and kept out of the view of the hostiles. Then opening the door to his roomette and sliding inside, he closed the door with a faint noise that was barely above the sound of a click and turned to Frederic Becher, who was sitting quietly on the bench.

  Kimball held the weapons up in display before the old man, an MP7 in each hand.

  Becher gave off a one-sided smile and nodded his approval. “Well,” he said, “I see you went shopping.”

  Kimball Hayden returned the same lopsided grin.

  Chapter Forty-One

  When Jae Tang returned to his unit from the train’s engine compartment, he noticed that neither Sobong nor Pae had joined them. So he asked Che: “Sobong and Pae?”

  Che shrugged. “Unknown.”

  Tang nodded. “I’ll take Kae and search the cars.”

  “We don’t have time,” said Che. “The primary objective is to remove Doctor Bosshart from the train. We lost the first window of opportunity of extraction, we cannot afford to lose the second.”

  “Understood.”

  “Take Kae topside to make sure that the area of extraction is clear. There’s something about Sobong and Pae’s disappearances that isn’t sitting well with me.”

  “You think there’s a hostile element onboard?”

  “I think not all is as it seems. But we have no time for examination.” He looked at his watch. “The train should be exiting in under three minutes.” Then back to Tang. “Ma and I will ready Doctor Bosshart for removal.”

  Tang nodded. “Understood.”

  After Tang beckoned Chul Kae to follow him to the platform that divided the cars, Kae secured his weapon behind his back and began to scale the ladder. Tang, standing sentinel, kept his weapon directed toward the roof’s edge to provide cover.

  Climbing rung after rung and with time running out, Chul Kae reached the top.

  * * *

  The mouth of the tunnel was now in view, a speck of light that grew by the moments which shed enough luminosity to reveal to Chul Kae that a clip to one of the rappelling lines had been attached to a rooftop railing, with a broken line trailing and flailing from the clasp. Here was the reason why the helicopter had been unable to peel back in time, which caused it to smash directly into the mountain’s wall. So Che was correct in his assumption, he thought, about somebody onboard the train crippling their schemes by deliberately connecting the chopper to the train, in an effort to disable any chances for the vehicle to escape.

  Not only that, two of their own remained missing.

  Chul Kae climbed down the ladder and turned to Tang, shouting over the loud clacking of the wheels over the rails. “Che was right,” he told him.

  “About?”

  “Somebody onboard this train is trying to make sure that we don’t succeed in our mission.”

  And then Chul Kae opened the door to G-Car and shouted for Che, telling him that he was correct that ‘Somebody on this train is trying to keep us from completing our mission objective.’

  “You know this for sure?”

  Chul Kae told him about the attached clip and the broken line—the line either snapping during the chopper’s impact, or just prior to its collision with the face of the mountain.

  Che clenched his teeth enough for the muscles in the back of his jaw to work. There was a skilled player onboard, he told himself. An elite soldier who methodically took out Uk Sobong and Myung Pae, with quiet efficiency. They had been erased from the equation, which left Che with no doubt as to the reason behind their disappearances.

  Che looked out the window, the walls beginning to wash over with natural light as the mouth of the tunnel loomed closer.

  They had to get Bosshart topside along with the canister, where the second Mil Mi-24 would be waiting.

  The second window of opportunity was beginning to open, just a short measure of time.

  Yet a threat remained, perhaps this man was watching from the shadows.

  A great warrior.

  Giving Ásbjörn Bosshart a mighty shove towards the doorway that led to the platform, Che had his team maintain watch for anyone posing a threat.

  Even though they didn’t see anyone…

  …it didn’t mean that the threat didn’t see them.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “This is a high-priority extraction,” Kimball told Becher, handing him an MP7. “They’re placing themselves in a high-risk situation to see this mission done. And the person they’re trying to remove appears to be an unwilling participant.”

  Becher checked his weapon, though he struggled with the mechanics of maneuverability since the joints of his hands had become too aged to work efficiently. Nevertheless, he was still able to operate the weapon, if necessary.

  “I’m assuming you have a plan,” Becher stated in a way that sounded more like a declaration rather than a question.

  “Yes and no,” answered Kimball.

  “Yes and no?”

  “There’s a second chopper out there waiting. I can’t allow them to board. Then I need to get to the engineering compartment so that I can contact the proper authorities, since we’re out of cellphone range. I’m assuming they have satellite communication abilities exiting the Dead Zone.”

  “Kimball, we’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

  “There’re four hostiles left.”

  “Is that all?” Becher said with a hint of sarcasm.

  “You’re a Vatican Knight,” he told him. “You’ve been in this position before.”

  Becher was duly humble
d as he nodded in agreement.

  “Whoever they’re trying to extract is a person of obvious importance,” Kimball went on. “What he had in his possession was handled very carefully by one of the hostiles, some type of element. If this is a terrorist faction or a military sect from a hostile government, then we need to do what we can to stop this operation. They took a major risk to see this done by scheduling the ‘take,’ while the train was in the Dead Zone between mountain passages barely wide enough for the trains to pass through, let alone choppers.”

  “More people may die, Kimball.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “So what will you do? The train is exiting the tunnel. You said it yourself that the second chopper will be waiting.”

  “It will be. But it doesn’t mean that their operation will carry through.” Kimball held his MP7 aloft.

  “I’ll do what I can to hold the fort,” he told Kimball. “But I only have the rounds inside the one magazine. They’re well equipped, I’m sure.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Kimball stated in a way that was nonjudgmental. “I understand your predicament. I understand you want a peaceful end and I’m all right with that.” Then after a pause he said: “But I have to do this. There’s a man who’s being extracted against his will. And he may or may not be in possession of a weapon of mass destruction, which is now in the hands of foreign nationals with obvious hostile intent. I just can’t sit back and let it go.”

  Becher gave the Vatican Knight a wan smile. “Let me say this,” he finally said. “There comes a time in everyone’s life, Kimball, to make a choice to become a sinner or a saint. But for some of us, perhaps we need to be both a sinner and saint to do what has to be done. Sometimes, it’s just who we were meant to be in the end…Sinners and saints. And sometimes violence is a necessary evil in order to secure the overall good. You are a Vatican Knight, Kimball, on a journey that belongs to you—right, wrong or indifferent. Follow it as you feel necessary. Perhaps everything you do is directed by the Hand of Providence.”

  “Or perhaps,” returned Kimball, “it’s just who I am.”

  Then a message seemed to cross the space between them, a silent but umbilical tie between two men who clearly communicated to each other with simple eye contact.

  …I kill people. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at…

  Becher nodded, receiving the message in full. “I understand,” he returned evenly.

  And then Kimball was gone, the man disappearing like a wraith.

  Becher, looking at his weapon, knew that his moment of judgment would be sooner than he wanted to be.

  He prayed for the Light.

  But he expected Darkness.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Even with all the gear they carried, the Vatican Knights made the trip from the chopper to the camp in less than twelve minutes. Once there, the team encircled the camp to set up a perimeter. Leviticus took post to the south, Isaiah took the north, and everyone else filled the gaps in between.

  From behind a heavy thicket of brush, Leviticus spied the encampment and noted a total of three mobile trailers. Two displayed satellite dishes and antennas, whereas the third appeared spartan in its hardware. There were, however, two guards standing post with their weapons slung across their backs, the men talking as one of them smoked. It was the only module that seemed to be under the direct guard of soldiers, while others milled about the camp. In all, Leviticus counted seven armed men. The rest appeared as techs and noncombatants.

  Then Leviticus whispered into his lip mic. “Isaiah?”

  “Go.”

  “I’m counting seven armed hostiles from my position in the south.”

  “Copy that,” said Isaiah. “Verifying seven as well.”

  “Isaiah and I are counting seven tangos from points north and south. Anyone seeing beyond that amount from the perimeter?”

  “That’s negative,” said Jonah. “Counting seven in the field of play. There may be more inside the modules.”

  “Copy,” said Leviticus. “Teams four, five and six, findings?”

  “Same,” said Daniel. “I’m seeing the same seven that everyone else is seeing in the field of play.”

  “Same here,” reported Malachi. “Seven in the field of play.”

  Jeremiah corroborated this as well, seeing seven armed personnel from the camp’s eastside position.

  “They’re looking pretty complacent,” Malachi commented.

  “Which will work to our advantage,” replied Leviticus. And then: “Isaiah?”

  “Go.”

  “The modules are set up with sat equipment with the exception of one.”

  “I noticed that.”

  “It might be the holding pen for Emily Bosshart. But you have two tangos guarding the gate.”

  “Understood.”

  “You know what to do, Isaiah…Be careful.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  Isaiah held the same positional command as Leviticus, serving as second in command. He was also a master of the martial arts, and second to none when it came to the silent kill. Slowly and cautiously, he made his way to the rear of the unequipped trailer, which had been detached from its mobile carrier. After viewing no windows in the rear, Isaiah went to his stomach and crawled beneath the chassis of the trailer where he could hear the talk between the guards standing in the front, deciphering their language to be Asian by the dialect.

  Isaiah adjusted the stem to his lip mic and whispered. “Leviticus, you getting this?”

  “Chinese?”

  “Not sure.”

  But it was Jeremiah who corrected them both. “It’s Korean,” he informed them.

  “For sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Then from Isaiah: “Leviticus, there’s no way to breach the unit from the rear, it’s completely sealed. If the package is inside—”

  “—Then the only way to confirm if she’s there is through the front,” he finished off.

  “Advice?”

  “Pull back,” he said. “But stay close.” And then Leviticus said: “Jeremiah?”

  “Go.”

  “Could you pick up what they were saying?”

  “They mentioned Pyongyang and Kim Jong-un. Couldn’t pick up too much after that.”

  “North Koreans,” Leviticus threw out.

  “Sounds like it,” said Jeremiah.

  In Leviticus’s mind these people were extremely hostile, the soldiers from a pariah regime who were being directed by a man who was leading the country on a suicidal reign. Everything North Korea did seemed to involve some type of military application that leaned toward global destruction.

  “Isaiah?” Leviticus finally said.

  “Use any means necessary to verify the existence of the package.”

  “I’m a go?”

  “That’s affirmative,” said Leviticus. “You’re a go. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Copy that.”

  * * *

  Leviticus began to direct his team, telling them to converge on the hostiles and to use their complacency against them.

  Then the team did exactly what was expected of them. They converged on their targets using the surrounding brush as their allies.

  * * *

  The man was eighteen years of age when he had been conscripted to serve in the North Korean military. By the time he was twenty-four, he was serving as part of Office 35’s martial brigade. When he earned that status, he was regaled by the fact that he was a master of military servitude, an elite operative under the command of Kim Jong-un.

  As he circled the camp, he noted the distant mountains and remarked inwardly about their beauty, and self-admittedly wondered what it would be like to have freedom outside the borders of North Korea, a blasphemous thought in the eyes of supreme leaders. All it would be, he knew, was a daydream that would carry with it an impossibility of achievement.

  As he skirted the brush along the fr
inges of the camp, he saw from the corner of his eye a flash of something emerging from the brush, a shape with crooked talons that grabbed and pulled him into the growth, something powerful that dropped him to the ground. And before he could utter a cry, he had his life stolen from him.

  That left six.

  * * *

  Leviticus had two soldiers caught within the sights of his weapon, the two so close they appeared as one as they walked side-by-side. They had their weapons slung over their shoulders, their banter with each other driving laughter from one, an obvious joke having been told between them.

  When the moment was right, when the two passed close to his position, Leviticus set off a pair of muted rounds from his suppressed weapon, the bullets impacting with each man’s temple, the most fragile part of the skull, which dropped them to the ground as if they had suddenly become boneless.

  That left four.

  * * *

  From his position beneath the trailer, Isaiah watched Leviticus commit to clean kills while Jeremiah performed a solo takedown. The kills had been quiet with the bodies being pulled into the thicket.

  That left two solos at the far end of the camp, and the two soldiers guarding the potential prize of Emily Bosshart.

  Crawling along the ground on his elbows, Isaiah moved into position. As the two soldiers talked, as one smoked and listened, Isaiah slowly removed a KA-BAR combat knife from the rig attached to his leg, maneuvered out from beneath the trailer, and quietly got to his feet, the Vatican Knight now standing behind both guards.

  Then a sixth sense of knowing he was not alone kicked in with the guard who was smoking, the cigarette balancing precariously between his lips, as he turned and tried to remove his unslung weapon from his back, but failed. Isaiah was on top of him quickly and fluidly and drove the edge of the blade across the man’s throat, sending arterial ropes of blood spraying outward with every pulsation of his heart, the blasts getting shorter with each eruption, until there was little left to force from the man’s heart.