Samuel shook it off. Cardinal Polletto looked down at him.
“It’s one of the most important days in all the world,” said the cardinal. “Everyone coming will be your servant.” Samuel fixed his gaze hard on the cardinal. “How long have you been seeing my mother?”
He didn’t know where the words came from, but the look on Cardinal Polletto’s face told Samuel he’d hit his mark.
Cardinal Polletto cleared his throat. “I’ve known her for quite sometime. She’s been waiting for this day ever since I told her who you are.”
“Who am I?” asked Samuel.
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Samuel stepped forward. “Did you kill my father?” The cardinal’s face went ashen. “Absolutely not. Why would you ask such a thing?”
Samuel moved even closer. “If I am who you say I am, and I find out you’re lying, I’ll kill you.”
Cardinal Polletto slapped Samuel hard. “Don’t you ever speak to me that way again.”
Samuel let the blood flow from his nose. Felipe and Eduardo took his side. “So, you are lying.”
Cardinal Polletto snatched Samuel and pulled him back toward the castle. Felipe and Eduardo ran to keep up. When they reached the front door, Father Sin was waiting, and soon they were back in their room.
Deep into the night, the three boys whispered what they remembered about the area surrounding the castle. Samuel’s nose stung, but he didn’t care. As they talked and planned, his mind drifted. Uncle Robert, where are you?
59
R obert paced the villa like a caged animal. Rinaldo and Dianora were the best lead they’d come up with since spotting Samuel at Torre Astura, and it had dissolved, leaving nothing behind, and nowhere to go.
Worst of all, he had watched Sister Isabella get shot and killed. Sister Isabella wanted to see Samuel rescued as much as he did, and her sacrifice to save Thorne only intensified his desire to rescue the boy, and destroy The Order for good.
Robert’s anger burned hot, but was nothing compared to that raging inside Thorne. Friends since thirteen, he knew her well, and watching her sit quietly, cleaning her weapons, told him she was boiling over, and that someone was going to pay big when the time came.
Father Kong and the others, according to the mandate set down for members of The Hammer of God, made final arrangements for Sister Isabella’s funeral and burial. It would be a private affair, attended by only members of the team. Morale was low. Her death had taken the fight out of all of them.
The phone rang. One of Father Kong’s aides answered, hung up, and whispered in the priest’s ear.
“Dianora lived,” said Father Kong. “She’s unconscious, but she’ll pull out of it.’
“Maybe we can talk to her again when she does,” said Thorne.
“It’s possible, but I’m sure she’ll be heavily guarded,” said Robert.
“So, let’s not count on it.”
Robert’s words deflated everyone further. Thorne cursed loudly, and didn’t apologize for it. The phone rang again, this time Father Kong answered it. His eyes widened.
“We’re on our way.” He looked over at Robert. “We have to go to the hospital immediately. Cardinal Maximilian is awake, and Bishop Ruini is dead.”
The hospital was even more crazed and abuzz with chaos when Robert and the others arrived, with twice the crowd at the front door.
Father Kong slowed down, but at the sight of a large contingent of police, kept going, and pulled around the corner. Robert and Thorne ducked down. Their pictures had been plastered on every television station in Rome, and the police had offered a reward for their capture.
“We’ll go inside and get the details,” said Father Kong. “You and Miss Thorne wait for us in the other car. I’ll call you when I can.” Robert and Thorne switched places with the men in the second car, parked in a barren alley, and waited. The phone call Father Kong received back at the villa delivered good news and bad. Cardinal Maximilian had awaked from his coma, but Bishop Ruini had fallen to his death from a fifth floor window. They weren’t sure if he was pushed or jumped.
“I wonder what this means?” Robert thought aloud.
“It means we’re close,” answered Thorne.
“But why kill Bishop Ruini?”
Thorne rolled down her window. “Maybe he wouldn’t talk.”
“Maybe, but why not kill Cardinal Maximilian too?” Thorne didn’t answer. She checked the ammo in her shotgun and counted the extra shells in her jacket pocket.
An hour passed, then two. Robert saw a car pulling up in the rear view mirror. It slowed down and eased up beside them. Robert and Thorne readied their weapons, but when the car stopped, Father Kong rolled down the passenger side window.
“Follow me back to the villa. I think we’ve found Samuel.”
60
“B ishop Ruini was a mole,” said Father Kong, ashamed. “He’s been feeding information to The Order. For how long, we’re not sure.” The priest gave them more details, explaining that Cardinal Maximilian had awakened, and overheard bits and pieces of a conversation between Cardinal Polletto and the bishop. Evidently, Bishop Ruini was ordered to finish Cardinal Maximilian, but when the cardinal opened his eyes, the bishop broke down in tears, opened the window and jumped.
“The cardinal says he overheard Cardinal Polletto say everything was in order at Bracciano,” said Father Kong.
Bracciano. The word caused Robert’s heart to thump hard against his chest. “And he thinks that’s where they’re keeping Samuel?” he asked.
“What does it matter?” asked Thorne. “It’s the best we’ve got, so let’s go with it.”
Father Kong pulled up information about Bracciano on the computer, complete with a layout of the castle there. “This is probably where they’re keeping him. It’s large, and will probably be heavily guarded, but we have an advantage.” Robert pulled a chair up next to the priest.
“These castles were designed, not only to keep enemies out, but to allow those inside a way of escape in case they were trapped for long periods of time,” said Father Kong. “Underneath Bracciano castle are several entrances accessible only under water.”
“Good,” said Robert. “Then let’s get everybody ready for a full assault. Thorne and I will approach the castle under water. When we’ve confirmed that Samuel is there, we’ll hit them hard and heavy.”
“And what happens after we get the boys?” asked Father Kong.
“Thorne and I will connect with Alison Napier, and take all of them to the American Embassy, where they’ll be safe,” said Robert.
Father Kong stood. “Cardinal Maximilian would like a chance to talk to the boys first.”
“He can have the other two, but Samuel’s going home,” snapped Robert. “And don’t give me that Anti-Christ rap, ‘cause I’m not going to hear it.”
“It’s the reason The Order took the boys, and why we’ve sacrificed so much to get them back.”
“Do you really believe Samuel is the Anti-Christ? That’s crazy.”
“Is it, Mr. Veil? How can you be so sure?”
“For the sake of argument,” said Thorne. “Let’s assume Samuel is who you say he is. If that’s true, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. So why try?”
Father Kong stood in silence. “I can’t answer that, but I do know I believe it’s only right that we get to talk with all of the boys together, before you take Samuel away. It’s only right for all of us, including Sister Isabella.”
Robert felt a stab. He didn’t believe what Father Kong was saying, but couldn’t deny the commitment and sacrifice. Why would they give so much if they didn’t believe it was true?
“Okay,” Robert finally said, “you can talk with the boy, but he’s going home with us regardless of what you think.” Father Kong bowed his head in ascent.
“So, how do we get this party started?” asked Thorne.
“I’m sure Cardinal Polletto knows about Rinaldo by now, and he’ll be prepared,” said Father Kong.
“Fine, but we’re taking my people along with us,” said Robert.
“I’ll send out a scout team to survey Bracciano,” said Father Kong.
“Get an idea of what we’re up against.”
Robert laid out his guns on the dining room table. “Good, when they call back, I’ll determine how many men we need.”
“We should keep it small,” said Thorne. “A large group will give us away.”
“Agreed,” added Father Kong. “We have God and the element of surprise on our side.”
“I feel ya, Padre, but I want fully automatic weapons for everybody who wants one, just in case,” said Robert. Father Kong just stared.
“Look, Father, I know how you feel, but it’s necessary.”
“It’s not that,” said the priest. “I just thank God for you and Miss Thorne, and Cardinal Maximilian wanted you to know that you have his blessings, and that he’ll be praying.”
Robert smiled. “Amen. Now let’s get it together. I want us ready to go in twenty-four hours.”
There was a knock at the door. One of Father Kong’s people opened it, and in walked another member of the Hammer of God, followed by a welcome surprise, Detective Nelson Reynolds.
“I understand there are a few asses that need my attention,” the detective said, smiling at Thorne, who walked over and gave him a big hug and kiss, then introduced him to everyone in the room.
“I thought we could use a little extra help,” said Thorne. “So I called Detective Reynolds a week ago and asked him to take a little vacation.” The detective smiled. “Hey, I can use the rest.” Father Kong walked over and shook the detective’s hand. “Welcome to Rome. We’re happy to have your assistance. If these two are vouching for you, then we’re happy to extend our trust.” Detective Reynolds bowed his head in respect and thanked the priest for his kindness.
Robert stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “Good to see you, big boy. I feel better already,” he said. Detective Reynolds shook Robert’s hand then pulled him in for a hug.
Thorne grabbed the detective’s bags. “Your room’s here in the back.
I’ll bring you up to date on the details.” The detective and Thorne disappeared to the back. Robert went back to cleaning his guns. Just a little while longer, Samuel. We’re going to win.
61
B lindfolded, his hands tied behind his back, Father Tolbert lay on his side, motionless and calm. He heard the door unlock and someone enter, which he presumed was Father Ortega from the mix of sweat and cheap cologne, an unforgettable signature of the unholy henchman, not easy to forget. Father Ortega put a cup up to Father Tolbert’s mouth, and he swallowed the ice-cold water in several thankful gulps. During the whole time, Father Ortega said nothing, even after Father Tolbert thanked him. The priest gently laid him back down on the hard, cold, stone floor, and relocked the door on his way out, leaving Father Tolbert alone with his nightmares.
Father Tolbert rolled over on his back and brought his heels up to his buttocks. His mind took him back to a childhood devoid and empty, the impetus of a sickness that had transformed him into a monster he couldn’t control. A beast that feasted on the childhoods of those he envied and coveted.
He thought joining the priesthood would help drive away the ferocious cravings for young boys, but it didn’t. Instead, the monster grew, nurtured by unfettered access to lambs ripe for slaughter, handed over to him by those who were supposed to shepherd the flock, not leave them abandoned and vulnerable.
The names and faces of countless children pushed their way into Father Tolbert’s head, jumping, playing, wallowing in innocence that he, as a priest, should have protected and fought for. Edwin, Anthony, Paul, Charles! Each child, some round-faced, some slim with black hair, some blond with green eyes, brown and blue, all stood before him in the shadows of his mind, all wanting to understand, all wanting to know why.
“I’m sorry,” Father Tolbert moaned. “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Each boy waded in the shallow river of Father Tolbert’s remembrance, heads down, eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry!
I’m sorry! Please, help me Lord, I’m sorry!” he screamed.
The boys in his head kept walking, the river rising until each child disappeared and drowned, their bodies floating on a surface of liquid black.
Father Tolbert rolled over, threw up, and cried in his vomit. It’s right that I suffer! Right that I die! Please, oh Lord, take away the pain with death!
Finally, a lone boy stood before him. Samuel.
When the gargoyle inside him turned its sights to Samuel Napier, a child full of life, and eager to fulfill it, Father Tolbert tried to do away with his demons, and confessed his sins to Cardinal Polletto. Counseling was suggested and attended, to no avail. In fact, the monster seemed to gain strength. Soon, Father Tolbert could only watch the demonic animal inside him hunt, kill and destroy.
Samuel stood on the bank of the black river, watching Father Tolbert with empty, sad eyes, then he looked over at the children floating dead in the water.
“Samuel, please forgive me! I love you! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” said Father Tolbert.
Samuel turned and walked down into the river, parting the sea of lifeless children floating on the blackness, until he too disappeared.
Moments later, he walked out of the water on the other side of the shore, but was different, more mature and powerful.
Father Tolbert flailed about, kicking and writhing in pain. Samuel smiled. Felipe and Eduardo walked out of the water, and the three of them disappeared into the woods.
“What does it mean? Lord, what have I done?” asked Father Tolbert.
“Tell me what you saw,” a familiar voice asked from somewhere in the room.
“Who’s there?” Father Tolbert cried. “Who are you?”
“Tell me what you dreamed,” the voice asked again.
“Cardinal Polletto?” Father Tolbert’s body shook. “I won’t tell you! I won’t!”
“Your time is short,” said Cardinal Polletto.“Soon, I’ll give you what you’ve longed for, death. But first, tell me your dream.” Father Tolbert struggled to break free. “I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let you hurt Samuel!”
“Samuel can’t be hurt, not by me, or anybody else.”
“Liar, you filthy liar! I won’t tell you anything!” Father Tolbert struggled to his feet. “I should have protected Samuel, but you made me hurt him.”
“Don’t fool yourself. You’ve always been weak for the taste of the young. I protected you, for this day, and allowed you to have what you loved.”
“I’m a monster! A monster you helped feed!”
“You’re not alone,” Cardinal Polletto told him. “Your depravity, like the others, has gone a long way to help us.”
“Help you?”
“Yes, help The Order get a step closer to destroying what should have been killed off centuries ago.”
“The Church? You’ve used me to destroy God’s kingdom?” Father Tolbert heard Cardinal Polletto stir and honed in on that direction.
“On the contrary,” said Cardinal Polletto. “The true kingdom is ours.
A kingdom you helped bring about with your seed. You gave us three, and will be remembered for all eternity.”
“Arrrrh!” Father Tolbert screamed, rushing toward Cardinal Polletto’s voice.
A granite-like blow smashed into the priest’s face. Father Tolbert fell backwards, his entire body floating through the air and crashing down to the floor.
“Thank you, Father Sin,” he heard Cardinal Polletto say.
Unable to move, Father Tolbert watched in his mind as more children, each face familiar, file into the black river of his mind. He wanted to tell them he was sorry, but knew it was useless. He heard Cardinal Polletto and Father Sin leave the room.
Father Tolbert lingered on the edge of consciousness, then cried into the night.
62
F orehead sweaty, shoulders tense,
Cardinal Polletto paced the cold, candlelit bedroom, unable to control his breathing or the pounding in his chest. He had asked not to be disturbed for the next few hours, while he readied himself for the ritual. As he stumbled about the room, catching his balance several times by grabbing hold of one of the antique oak bedposts. For the last twenty-four hours, anxiety had tortured his being, kneading him unmercifully, castigating his spirit.
The cardinal slid down to the floor, leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes, as much from the sweat burning his pupils, as from the blanket of nervous uncertainty drowning him. Get up you fool! This is what you wanted, what you’ve been waiting for! Victory is at hand!
He pulled himself up on the side of the bed, stumbled over to the dresser, lowered his aged frame down to the cushioned chair, and stared at the man in the mirror. He barely recognized the feeble-faced, gray-headed imp leering back at him, eyes red and bleary, purple veins branching out of his hawk-like beak. Looks that belied the image of strength and grace he had carefully nurtured since stepping into the realm of Vatican politics. Others boasted elegant good looks, playing on their God given handsome exteriors, but none matched the cunning charm, charisma and hallmark ability to persuade and manipulate that Cardinal Polletto used to construct a reputation of excellence, and build an international network of loyal supporters, from the Kremlin to the White House.
The cardinal looked over at the antique grandfather clock to check the time. Less than four hours. I better get ready. He picked up a washcloth off the dresser, soaked it in a basin of warm water and covered his face, the strength in his legs slowly returning, the warmth therapeutic and welcome. Cardinal Polletto walked over to the bed, where his rich purple and red vestment and gold lion’s head scepter lay waiting to drape him in the power and glory he’d thirsted for most of his life. The sight of the vestment and glistening scepter conjured up the spirit inside him, reminding him of who he was, and who he would soon become.
He ran his bony fingers across the satin robe and thought of the majesty and influence he’d wield as Pope. Access to untold wealth and the power to use it would allow him to build alliances, wage war, or initiate peace as he saw fit. The cardinal straightened his back, raised his chin, and slipped the clothing over his head, playing the ritual over in his mind, as debilitating jitters turned into unwavering confidence. Near full strength, the cardinal went back to the dresser, and sat back down in front of the mirror. This time, the man staring back at him wore fierce fiery eyes, a strong, firm jaw line, and a countenance of royalty. It’s my time!
The Hammer of God v-2 Page 28
