by Rick Jones
Bonasero wasn’t sure how he knew this or how this thought came to him. It simply had, the idea ringing true on every front, and something he needed to bring to the pontiff in order to achieve his blessing. Grabbing the file, Bonasero Vessucci left his room and began to make his way to the pontiff’s chamber inside the Apostolic Palace.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Pope’s Chamber, Apostolic Palace
Vatican City
Pope Pius XIII raised an incredulous brow. “What?” Bonasero appeared sheepish by the way he lowered his head and nodded. “I know,” he answered. “All I ask, Your Holiness, is that you hear me out.” “Bonasero, you’ve always come into my office as a man bearing great wisdom.” The pontiff then pointed to the manila folder on his desktop. “But this,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at the file, “a man who makes a living killing innocents. Someone you want me to consider as a developmental project to become a Vatican Knight. He belongs on our watch list of radicals, not as a candidate.” “Your Holiness, this man, for whatever reason, and something I know in my heart, can alter the way the Vatican Knights operate.” “How so?”
When Bonasero opened his mouth to speak, no words came out. It was as if he was searching for the proper explanation, one that had merit. And then: “All I can say, Your Holiness, in all honesty, is that something unexplainable simply draws me to this figure. It’s not the voice of God, it’s not something I can truly explain or begin to understand. All I know is that this man, in some way, could become a savior to the Church, not an enemy of it.” “And you can’t explain this sensation?” “No.” After a pivotal moment of silence, the pontiff said, “We have all received a calling, Bonasero, in a way that directs us down our spiritual path. But this . . .” The pontiff let his words hang. “Perhaps, Your Holiness, this new calling is not mine but his. Perhaps we are merely the vessels chosen to help direct this man down his spiritual path.” “I’m not sure why you’re so inclined to help this person who is clearly lost. With that said, however, and even though this is going against my better judgment, I will allow your conscience to be your guide. Do not approach him under any circumstance, unless you truly believe the moment is right.” “The moment will be right, Your Holiness, when he sees his life for what it truly is.” “An epiphany. Is that it?” “It’s something that comes to us all in time, does it not?” “In the case of this man,” the pontiff stated as he placed his fingertip on Kimball’s photo, “it may never come. And if it does, he would surely ignore it.” “If he does ignore his calling, then we have to believe it’s by God’s design. But right now, I feel that His design is to give this man guidance.” “Bonasero, it may also be a premonition that this man is evil incarnate, someone who may be a danger to the Church. I’ve read his file. Have you considered that perhaps your inclination is a seeding from Darkness, that it may be a means to allow it to breach these walls in the form of a man who brings with him the ability to stem the flow of our Light?” “I know how you feel about this particular choice, Your Holiness, but be it Light or something gravely oppressive . . . I see this man as the means that can be weaponized against Darkness. In my eyes, I see him as the means who works within the Darkness in order to serve the Light. I don’t know why or how I’m drawn to this man, only that I am in a significant way.” “You will serve as his guiding light, is that it? His Sherpa who will guide him on his road to Redemption?” Bonasero Vessucci nodded. “Yes.” “Though I’m adverse to your decision, I trust it as well. You may observe the man for who he is. But if he stays his course, he will not be considered for admission as a Vatican Knight, despite this calling that intrigues you so. But listen to my words, Bonasero, this man must prove his worth for consideration, his value to the team. As you know I believe in second chances and that all people have a right to seek salvation after living a less-than-respectable life. This man, however, scares me.”
“Perhaps, Your Holiness, an unlikely friendship will surface between the two of you.”
“Highly unlikely.”
“Maybe,” said Bonasero. “But perhaps this is a calling not only to me or to Kimball Hayden, maybe it’s a calling for you as well; to embrace this man at his most dire need of being embraced, by someone who truly cares.” “And you think I’m that man?” Bonasero smiled. “You know what they say about the Lord working in mysterious ways.” “Not so mysterious in my point of view. I simply believe that this man’s heart is too heavily blackened. And as much as I wish to believe that all souls can be saved, some cannot regardless of the number of chances given—be it a second or third. Some men are simply too far gone. And I believe this man to be one of them. However, as I stated before, observe the man and maintain your distance. See if he does have the capability of seeking the Light. But keep in mind, Bonasero, that you will be held fully accountable should this man bring nothing but Darkness with him.” Bonasero Vessucci stood. “Understood.” “Then go with your inclination and may God be with you. I pray that your assessment of this man is correct.” Bonasero Vessucci reached across the desk to receive the pope’s hand and kissed the Fisherman’s Ring. Upon doing so and then bowing in respect, Cardinal Vessucci left the pontiff’s chamber to speak with the members of the Vatican Knights.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Chamber of the Vatican Knights
Vatican City
The floor to Divinity House was a masterpiece of mosaic tile that was majestically cobbled together to form the emblem of the Vatican Knights. Centered within the coat of arms was a silver cross Pattée set against a blue background. The colors were significant with silver representing peace and sincerity, and blue signifying truth and loyalty. Standing alongside the coat of arms on their hind legs with their forepaws against the shield to stabilize it were two heraldic lions. These lions were a symbolic representation of bravery, strength, ferocity and valor. And not only did the floor to the Master Chamber symbolize all this, the emblem also appeared repeatedly throughout Divinity House, as well as the insignia having been darned into their uniforms and berets. It was even acid-etched on the stone wall above the door of their living quarters. Inside a small room off the Master Chamber, Bonasero Vessucci was holding counsel with two elite members of the Vatican Knights: Jonah and Nahum.
Jonah was broad, tall and well-defined with muscle mass, as well as being uncannily fast despite his size. He was the team’s computer and demolition tech, and a man who mastered combat techniques with double-edged weaponry. Nahum was shorter and slimmer, the man built to be the martial artist within the unit who had no equal. He had mastered many styles and united some of the techniques into his own method of fighting, becoming the tailor of a new brand of justice. However, both men only utilized their skillsets when it came to protecting their lives or the lives of innocent people. They also navigated themselves morally by the motto: Loyalty Above All Else Except Honor. After Bonasero proffered their next mission, which wasn’t a military operation at all but a surveying expedition, and like the pontiff, they questioned the cardinal’s decision. Jonah, placing the file of Kimball Hayden aside, gave Bonasero Vessucci a quizzical look. “This man hold’s none of the values of a Vatican Knight. In fact, he’s the type of person we go up against, not incorporate him into our league.” “I know,” said Bonasero. “But sometimes, a tarnished gem is discovered and is polished into a beautiful stone, is it not?” “Bonasero,” this from Nahum, “this man is a killing machine. And he does so without any obvious thought to his actions. He’s simply cold and calculative and kills anyone who may compromise his position. He’s not Vatican Knight material.” Bonasero first looked in Nahum’s eyes, then to Jonah, both rapt with attention. “Do we not always walk within the Light and are bound by certain rules?” “Of course,” said Jonah. “And by those restrictions, have we not, on occasion, been unable to save some lives when we could have, if not for the regulations we live by?” The pair of Vatican Knights, though reluctantly, admitted as such by nodding. And then from Nahum: “The terms of the Church are what we li
ve by. It’s what we’re all about.” “Of course, but what if there’s a man, just one, who is capable of saving additional lives of innocent people by working in the Gray . . . in order to serve the Light.”
“The Gray?” asked Jonah.
“A man who works between the Darkness and the Light, but one who sees the Light as his salvation.”
“You want to promote an individual into the ranks who observes the rules when it bests suits him?” asked Nahum.
“A wild card factor,” the cardinal answered. “A man who will stand before the evil of the darkest shadows, something he knows all too well, and in the name of God defeat the very thing he knows best. We would have a divine minion who could best serve the Light by working in the Dark. And a man who would live in the Gray, the area between the two.”
“And what if he decides to serve the Dark?” asked Jonah.
“Honestly, I have no answer beyond my inclination that this man,” he pointed to the file, “is worthy of redemption. How I know this is beyond my understanding, with the reason as to why this man is utterly important to this group a mystery. Perhaps this discovery is for all of us to learn over time.”
Bonasero reached for the file and opened it to reveal the photo of Kimball Hayden. The pull of this man remained as a point of his obsession, and something undeniably odd. Bonasero was a man of devotion to his God, a man with reason and good judgment. But this one person, perhaps it was the look his eyes, he considered, that appeared to be beckoning for help. Even though they were cold, blue and icy, Bonasero had the uncanny ability to read eyes as if they were truly the souls of the individual. What he saw was pooling sadness, something the assassin tried to fend off by creating a wall to keep his emotions at bay. But walls crack, Bonasero thought. And they crumble. The human mind can detain something so horrendous for so long. Therefore, the brewing sadness. Otherwise, Bonasero would see nothing but a blackened void behind the stark blues. But this man, though a tiny ember, showed him enough of a spark. The cardinal sighed a small release of breath, and then said, “You are to observe this man only, no matter where he goes. You will chronicle his moves, the bad as well as the good, but you will never intervene. Is that clear?” “Even if he strikes against an innocent?”
“Sadly. But remember the three principles we rule by: To protect the Church, to protect the sovereignty of the Church, and to protect the welfare of its citizenry. The Vatican Knights act accordingly by these laws only in search-and-rescue military operations. Your mission is to observe only. Not to intervene.” “With all due respect,” said Jonah, “This seems to be a waste of our resources. We could be on missions elsewhere instead of surveying an assassin who has no hope.” “That’s not true,” Bonasero corrected. “Every man can be rescued. Every soul can be saved. All you have to do is reach out with a helping hand.” “Yeah, true, but according to this guy’s file, he’ll probably rip that hand off.” “Have faith, Jonah. It’s what gets us through the most difficult of times. And I believe that this man, Kimball Hayden, has the means to be a good soldier that could benefit the Church.” Nahum nodded his head disbelievingly at the photo of Kimball. What it was that Bonasero saw in him was beyond understanding. Here was a man who killed people who could not protect themselves, something the Vatican Knights were completely averse to. “I think you are way off the mark on this one, Bonasero. I really do. But on the other hand,” Nahum slid the file closer to the cardinal, “you’ve always been a man of wise judgment. What you think you see in this guy is beyond me. And in my opinion a mistake. But if you sense something about him, that’s enough for me.” Bonasero nodded. “Thank you, Nahum, that means a lot to me. It really does.” “When do we begin?” Jonah asked the cardinal. “Immediately. Vatican Intelligence will give you his last known location, which, as we understand, is Washington, D.C. However, he’s a mobile operative and can go anywhere at the snap of his handler’s fingers. Stay close but not enough to draw suspicion. Kimball Hayden is a man whose talents are quite sharp. If he connects that you’re shadowing him, he may retaliate. Even with the skillsets you two possess, they may not be enough against this man.”
“That’s hard to believe,” said Jonah. “What I’m trying to say to both of you is to be careful. This man,” Bonasero Vessucci pointed to the photo, “has equally fashioned skillsets. Like you, Jonah, he is a reputed master with the use of double-edged weaponry. And when it comes to you, Nahum, he has mastered several techniques in the martial arts. He’s quick, he’s fast, and he’s a thinker, which makes him a very dangerous man if he finds himself cornered.” “And this is a man you want as a Vatican Knight?” Jonah added snidely. “Like I said, I believe that the Church could benefit with someone who walks within the Gray, a place where he would be most comfortable when working against the Dark and for the Light.” “It’s your neck you’re putting out there,” Jonah added. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” “It’s just an observation, not a commitment. At least not yet.” The Vatican Knights stood up. “We’ll be ready in twenty,” Nahum told him.
“Very good,” said Bonasero. “A transport will be waiting. As soon as you touch down in Washington, contact Vatican Intelligence. They’ll be your communication post.” After the Vatican Knights left to ready up, Bonasero returned to Kimball Hayden’s photo. He looked at the stark blue of the man’s eyes and the frosty chill behind them. But digging deeper and almost to the core, Bonasera Vessucci swore that he could see an ember of Light surrounded and encased by a rotting blackness. Tracing those eyes with the point of his finger, Bonasero wondered if that minute spark could be fanned into a flame, and then into a pyre of magnificent light. I hope so, he thought. And then as a whisper to himself, he added, “I know so.” A long time thereafter, Bonasero Vessucci continued to look into the photographed eyes of a man who killed without compunction.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ronald Reagan Airport
Arlington, Virginia
A private charter jet hired by the Vatican from Alitalia Airlines had touched down and taxied to the terminal. The time was 3:30 in the afternoon. After Nahum and Jonah grabbed their military-styled rucksacks, they were picked up by Father Madison and brought to the archdiocese in Washington, D.C. By six that evening, after they had unloaded, they were surveying a small apartment located in an upscale part of Washington with rents starting well above $2,000 per month. It was in a brownstone with the residence having a second-story view of the street that was lined with maples and elms. For nearly two days the Vatican Knights watched and followed Kimball Hayden from afar, though there was nothing the assassin did outside of leaving his brownstone to dine out, nothing that appeared out of the ordinary. But late on the evening of the second day a cab drove up to the residence and waited until Kimball, who got into the vehicle with luggage, headed for the airport. Jonah and Nahum maintained a tail, though from a comfortable distance. Once Kimball paid the cabbie and entered the terminal, Jonah dropped Nahum off to follow. The crowd was heavy, but Kimball was heads and shoulders above most, an easy target to trail. After Kimball took a turn inside the terminal and walked beyond the kiosks, Nahum had lost him as he rounded the corner. The man who was taller than most was gone. Nahum searched his left and then his right. Kimball Hayden wasn’t in any of the side shops, bars or eateries. Then he saw the MENS ROOM to his left. Picking his pace to a near jog, Nahum entered the room. When he tried to round the corner that led to the urinals, however, he was met by a wall of muscle that was as hard as granite. Nahum, almost seeing internal stars from the impact, fell back and looked into the depths of Kimball Hayden’s eyes, which were without emotion. The large man stood his ground with a bag in his hand, the impact of Nahum crashing into Kimball doing little to rock the big man on his feet, the assassin as stalwart as an oak. Nahum sensed alarm that he may have been made. But then Kimball’s eyes lowered to the man’s collar, the clerical band of a priest, and said, “Excuse me, Father.” “No-no. It was my fault. I should have been more careful.” Just as Kimball was
about to pass him, Nahum caught a glimpse of Kimball’s boarding pass. The top part read Boston, his destination, while under a fictitious name. As Kimball headed for the gate, Nahum sighed inwardly. He had never felt such a presence in a man, especially when that presence had a dark foreboding to it. Nahum had never felt such a darkness attached to anyone. To him it was palpable, a cruel and living substance that engulfed the core of the man’s soul. Allowing Kimball to leave for his gate, Nahum immediately exited the terminal and met up with Jonah. “He’s going to Boston,” he told him. Then he gave him the fictitious name he was traveling under.
