by Gavin Reese
Father Harry broadly grinned, like he was pleased with himself. “Surely, God looks much more kindly upon those desperate, suffering souls, and judges them with far greater mercy and benevolence than a heartbroken lover who ends their life over a sinful affair. For even as the greatest evils bring misery and suffering to those around them, the perpetrator themselves is absolutely and perpetually accosted by their own terrors. How much suffering could have been avoided had monsters like Jeffrey Dahmer chosen to take his own life before his first murder? Certainly, the resulting indignities and suffering could have been prevented from touching many hundreds of lives.”
“I would think,” Alpha injected, “to answer the next, obvious question about the third party’s knowledge or participation, in your circumstance, I believe God would greatly reduce the responsibility of that man, as well.”
“I agree,” Father Harry beamed, his point driven home. “I completely agree.”
FIFTY-ONE
Training Day 200, 1300 hours.
Rural Compound. Niobrara County, Wyoming.
Michael returned from his lunch break and found Jane standing at the front of the classroom. We’re either getting another dose of CBRNE or she’s here to impart her previously-asserted expertise in Masculine Humility. Maybe both. Michael had had some training in Chemical-Biological-Radiation-Nuclear-Explosives operations while he worked for the Silver City Police Department, but Jane knew the subjects better than anyone he’d ever met. She also taught Burglary Alarm Manipulation. Every group needs a science nerd, and she’s definitely John’s.
“Good afternoon,” Jane offered, and the four remaining trainees all responded in kind. “If there’s no questions from the last CBRNE class, today’s featured topic is chemical issues. Toxins, poisons, tranquilizers, street drugs, overdose symptoms and quantities. I’m basically gonna spend four hours making sure you never again touch unknown liquids, especially in a public venue or a target location.
“If you recall from my radiation class, your bodies have natural immuno-proteins that travel around the body and kill off rad-damaged cells. Unless you get a massive dose that overwhelms the body, you’re gonna stay operational and probably live for a long time. If it does cause you problems, most’ll show up as cancers decades later. So, too much rad today is usually a problem for tomorrow. Time, distance, and shielding will let you complete the mission. Remember that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Michael offered. Even though they weren't supposed to be formal with the instructors, he wouldn’t speak to Jane like they were friends.
“Well, that’s the first bad news of today’s class: you have no such mechanism to defeat chemical poisoning or toxicity. Your liver, kidneys, and lymph nodes can try to filter bad shit outta your blood, but it’s not the same thing. You might’ve heard the expression, ‘the solution to pollution is dissolution?’ You’ve only got so much blood, tissue, and interstitial fluid to dissolve chemical compounds, so we’re pretty easy to overwhelm. Chemicals will kill you much faster and more efficiently than just about everything else in the CBRNE world. You don’t have to be close to the tanker of chlorine gas when it spills, you just have to be close enough. Or downwind. Or downhill. Explosions, generally, are only devastating for the people next to the device. Chemicals are more dangerous at greater distances than anything that goes boom.”
Jane wrote “80,000” in large numbers on the dry erase board at the front of the room. “As an example, let’s look at one aspect of the atom bomb detonations in Japan in 1945. The detonation vaporized those closest to the point of impact. The shockwaves, both out and back, killed a few more. Radiation poisoning added to the body count for a short while, and cancer did the same for decades. The upper estimates for the total, combined death toll from those devices is 250,000.
“However, the International Atomic Energy Agency studied the survivors of those detonations up until the early 2000’s. At that time,” she pointed up at the board, “there were still more than eighty-thousand cancer-free survivors of those blasts. Each got a massive dose of radiation, all at once, but their bodies dealt with the damage and they lived normal, healthy lives medically unaffected by 1945. Our bodies have no such ability to effectively defeat chemical toxicity.
“So, the Airport Police in Vancouver, B.C.,” she continued, “recently intercepted about two-hundred grams of carfentanyl, an elephant tranquilizer that’s currently replacing heroin on the street drug circuit. Two-hundred grams. Less than a quarter-pound, less than four ounces by weight. But, that’s enough drug to kill ten, million, people. The population of New York City,” she snapped her fingers, “gone. Radiation required two explosive devices and decades to put down a quarter-million lives. Chemistry needs a few ounces and about four minutes to stack forty-times the bodies. Pretty tremendous difference in lethality, gentlemen.” Jane scanned the trainees for their response, and Michael knew she’d secured their attention.
“So, while you’re soon busy doing unknown things in unknown parts,” Jane offered and flashed a telling smile, “I’d like to instill a healthy fear of overdose and toxicity, and make sure you can identify the warning signs that you’ve been chemically comprised. Let's begin.”
Michael sat and listened to the next four hours of Jane’s instruction, which included street drug awareness and identification, overdose symptoms, prescription medication abuse and overdose, and toxins and poisons used by secular governments against the Enemies of their State. Kinda funny, Michael thought, the double-edged sword of information is that someone can always use it for unintended purposes. Probably not a coincidence, though, that we discussed God’s view on assisted suicide and opioid overdose limits on the same day.
When her training session finished, Jane said goodnight and left the room, as she’d typically done, but didn’t dismiss them back to the main house. As she strode to the back door, John and Father Harry entered, exchanged knowing glances with Jane, and continued on to the front of the room. Here comes trouble, Michael thought.
“Good evening, shitheads,” John gruffly greeted them. “I’m as excited to see you right now as I’m certain you are to see me. Turns out, your day ain’t over yet, so gimme your full-and-undivided.
“We’re startin’ the next phase of the program,” John explained, “and you’ll soon know what your respective assignments are gonna be. In the meantime, we’re sending ya off tonight to parts unknown to await further instructions. Over the comin’ weeks, y’all are goin’ out on individual field problems, training scenarios all set in different cities. Under the watchful eye of the rest of my training staff, who’re all unknown to you, you’ll complete assignments in unfamiliar environments around unfamiliar people. Each one becomes more complex and demanding than the last. This’ll be the final phase of your training before you’re ready to be promoted up for whatever work God has in store for you.
“So, for right now,” John continued, with his hands on his hips, “I want you to study all the class notes you want. Memorize everything you can, because as soon as we’re done here tonight, you’re gonna step to the back of the room and run every scrap of paper through a shredder while we watch. Then, you’re gonna dump your little desktop milk crate and its contents into a burn bag that won’t survive the night. Take nothing but your clothes from this room.
John glanced down at his watch. “It’s 18:14. You boys got two hours to study and get your shit destroyed. Flights leave before midnight, and ya won't be back for a while. Some of you may never come back, but that’s up to you. Everything’s voluntary, and it pays to be a winner, gentlemen. Get to it.”
FIFTY-TWO
Training Day 220, 0804 hrs.
Rural Compound. Niobrara County, Wyoming.
It’s almost like I never left, Michael thought as he knelt on his worn towel while Father Harry delivered mass. Everything’s the same, if everything wasn’t so different. After playing spy games all over the country for three weeks, my reward for success is to come back to this shithole. It’s
like “90 Minutes in Heaven.” I’ve seen what waits on the other side and I don’t wanna be here anymore. If my assignment’s gonna be anything like the last twenty days, I’m about to walk into the greatest job God ever made.
At the end of the service, Father Harry made an unusual addition to the celebration. “Let us conclude with Saint Michael’s prayer,” he offered and bowed his head. Michael did the same, and, from memory, recited the prayer aloud with his colleagues. “Amen.”
After Father Harry concluded the mass, Michael ritualistically offered comfort and well wishes to those around him, which included John, who’d joined them fifteen minutes prior.
“Andrew,” John called out, “Father Harry and I gotta meet with you. All the rest-a you, make yourselves comfortable and don’t go nowhere. We’ll be back for each-a you soon enough.”
Michael followed Father Harry and John to the same bedroom that Harry had used for their recurring psych evals. An equal mix of apprehension and excitement filled Michael as he sat in his usual seat. It’s not useful for me to be here anymore. I wanna go relive the last three weeks, over and over again, but with real targets and real purpose.
John sat on the couch opposite Michael and close to Father Harry. “First off,” he announced, “relax. You’re done. You made it. You’re moving on with us, and we have a place for you to serve God and His people in an exceptionally rare manner. Most of my graduates take assignments in intelligence, analysis, diplomatic services and security, or close-protection for the Holy See’s dignitaries and distinguished guests. Very few get the chance being offered to you right now.”
“Some of the other guys,” John patiently explained, “they’re goin’ to those other roles, but you’ve been invited to join a highly specialized organization that operates under the oversight and guidance of the Holy See Intelligence Services. You’re a man of very useful and rare skills, and I’ve never seen anyone that could be so creative and still stay in-bounds, at least in terms of your ethics, obligations, and vows. Even with your early disregard for what I believed were tacit and known boundaries, I’d like to see you in this position. I’d like to know that you’re standing watch and helping keep the wolves at bay for one more night. The thought brings me comfort, and, at my age, I’m in desperate need of it.”
“I’m humbled and flattered,” Michael stammered and took control of himself. “But, what’s the assignment?”
“We’re gonna get there in baby steps,” John explained, “just in case you decide along the way it’s not for you. Reason for that, the organization you’d work in, it doesn't officially exist. Not on any document; not on any budget request or on any email server. It can only be found in the very shadows where Satan and his demons live and breathe. Your oversight would be limited to the few like yourself, the ones unafraid to do the ugly work necessary to protect God’s people from the evils that walk among us, hidin’ in plain sight. Op-Sec is exceptionally important here, and almost no one in the Church is ‘need to know.’”
“As part of this organization,” John continued, “you will take our centuries-old spiritual war directly to the demons that infect God’s children. You will use everything we taught you, along with your investigations experience from before, and you’ll work in solitude to combat the greatest threats mankind’s ever known. Every morning, you’ll recite Laud in anticipation of making tangible accomplishments that day, followed each night with Compline and the intrinsic satisfaction of havin’ actually stopped evil. The world will be a measurably better place because of your sacrifices, and all mankind will enjoy an ever-improving relationship and understanding of God and His mysteries, even though no one’ll ever know the debt they owe you.
“Now, for the bad news,” John offered and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I’m the one that's in charge of the operations, so you ain’t gettin’ ridda me by takin’ this assignment. If anything, we’re gonna get to know each other a helluva lot better’n we do now. I’m recommending you for this posting with some reservations, though, Andrew. Think of this as a probationary period. The tests are over, and there’s nothing else that you need to worry about passing, you only need to worry about staying in-bounds and not failing, if that makes sense.”
Michael leaned forward and matched John’s posture and body language. Helps convey sincerity. “I understand the reservations, John, and I have a much better grasp now of what my role and place are. I appreciate any opportunity to do the tough work that God requires of me.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. When I was asked to start up this program, the deal I struck was that I’d stay in charge of the operations, personnel, and ongoing training. I didn’t wanna train y’all up, polish you to a high shine, and then hand you off to some jack-wagon that didn’t know shit from shy-nola. So, even if you don’t like me, you gotta be able to trust me. I said on Day One that I’m not your daddy, your uncle, or your friend. I can be a mentor, but, mostly, I’m your boss, your trainer, and I’m the one what’s responsible for everything you do and everything you fail to do. So, I have the final and last word on how long you’re here and what you’re assigned to do. We clear? Any concerns so far?”
Michael slightly shook his head. “No, none.” I don't need time to decide, if he’d just tell me what I'd actually be doing. This might be everything I’ve wanted and feared. “It’s all, really, incredible, John. I’m interested, but I still don’t actually know what I’m committing to.”
Father Harry and John looked at one another. Harry nodded as though showing John his agreement.
Or giving him permission, Michael thought.
“If you’re gonna make me sound out the big words for ya,” John facetiously paraphrased an earlier statement, “then I’m offering you an assignment as an absolver, and it’s exactly what it sounds like. The veterinarian’s office has that one guy that’s got the gumption and intestinal fortitude to humanely put down all the animals that’s too sick to carry on. The pope and the Holy See? They've got absolvers. When they asked for my opinion, you’re the first one I recommended.
“If you wanna think about it,” John continued, “I understand, but I’ll need an answer in the next couple hours, and not a minute longer. This opportunity won’t ring twice, and you can only get there from here, where you are right now.”
Michael had fantasized about working for the Catholic equivalent of the CIA but, now unexpectedly found himself squeamish with the secrecy John described. “I’d still be working for the Church, for the Holy See, though, right?”
“The Church,” John rhetorically asked. “That’s just one part of the Holy See, Andrew, and most-a them don’t know what’s what. It’s not fair to say that we work for ‘the Church,’ because that implies common knowledge and acceptance of what we know must be done. It’s more accurate to say that you’re gonna be working with the Church, with its most enlightened members that God’s entrusted with a deeper understanding of His mysteries. You’ll be takin’ advantage of its hierarchy, global reach, and resources, but, no, the local friar ain’t gonna ever know you exist or what you do. Op-Sec, right?”
Father Harry leaned forward and interjected. “We’re headed toward the End Times, Andrew, we all know it and feel it, deep in our souls. Could be tomorrow, more likely a few years, perhaps even a few generations away. The more time we have to prepare, the more effective our work can be. If you were to start eliminating the devil’s spawn from this Earth today, and you had a few years, decades, maybe a generation or two to continue that work in various forms, how much difference could you make on behalf of God’s people? How much good work could we accomplish with dozens of ‘Andrews,’ or a whole covert army of apostolic ‘demon snipers’ in this spiritual campaign? That’s what you’ve got the opportunity to do, if you want it. Starting right now.”
If God’s put this in front of me, Michael thought, then it must be my purpose to take it on. “I’ll do it. When do I leave?”
John smiled and knocked twice on the coffe
e table between them. “Good on ya. Now, with that settled, let’s get into some details. Logistically, much of what we do and how we do it is heavily compartmentalized to protect all of us from hell-inspired betrayal and outsiders. Basically, what you need to understand to do your job is that our intelligence apparatus collects information from all over the globe. Priests, monsignors, nuns, all the cooperating members of the clergy are critical sources of new intel for us. When they learn of particularly heinous sin, they pass that info along. Analysts and desk-nerds help run that down until we identify a single source, an especially flawed human soul. After it’s determined all other options have failed, or will fail because they’re beyond God’s other methods of rehabilitation, we recommend a ‘final absolution.’
“Despite the confidence we have in our collection and analysis methods,” John continued, “we still demand that the individual absolver begins by corroborating the existence and severity of the alleged sins. There can be no other way. We must have that final safety valve to ensure we don’t send God a soul we could’ve otherwise fixed.”
“You and the few like you,” Father Harry interjected, “you are the greatest weapons God has given us in the very real-life combat against Satan and his armies. You will make swift and immediate impact on the safety and welfare of God’s children, and dwindle the numbers of souls saturated with evil. I’m proud that you’ve been accepted to this clandestine program, Andrew, and I know that God will do great things through you.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“The most important aspect, especially for your long-term success,” Father Harry offered, “is to always remember your very specific distinctions from a ‘murderer’ or a ‘killer.’ You’re an absolver, and there’s an insurmountable moral divide between those three. You will investigate accusations from victims who have come forward with no hope of direct intervention. They want to be heard, guided, and counseled by our clergy, not avenged. John will only send you on assignments that involve a few, narrow areas of human failings that cannot be altered, changed, or rehabilitated, the rare and absolutely true evils: the pedophiles, rapists, mass murderers, serial killers, and the like. No one else will ever have reason to fear you darkening their doorstep, even if they somehow knew of your existence. All other sins and crime fall to secular courts and confessional booths. They’re not our domain or our purpose.”
