Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God (28 page)

“We’re surprised to see you here,” offered Robert, resting back in the lime colored pastel armchair, legs crossed. “But I’m glad to see you with a smile back on your face.”

“Cardinal Polletto thought it a good idea and invited me,” answered Alison, her bright demeanor reminding Robert of the first time Donavon introduced them. “He said it wasn’t right that I sit at home alone, and I agree. I feel much better.”

“Good,” said Thorne, looking comfortable lying back in the billowy cushioned couch. “Did the FBI give you a hard time?”

“They did at first,” answered Alison, suddenly subdued. “With Samuel still lost, they thought it a good idea that I stay close, but Cardinal Polletto made some calls on my behalf, and they let up.” Robert seethed inside. He tried to put a finger on why Cardinal Polletto would involve Alison. The more he pondered, his desire to kill the cardinal increased.

“That was nice of him,” said Robert. “Have you spoken with the cardinal since you arrived?”

“Not yet,” she answered. “He left word that he might be tied up for a day or two, and that he’d catch up with me later, which is fine with me. I haven’t been to Rome in a long time. I’ll catch up on the sights and do a little shopping. Now, tell me, what are you two doing here, and how did you know where to find me?”

Robert had anticipated Alison’s questions. “How much do you know about Cardinal Polletto?”

Alison looked confused. “Donovan and I met him years ago,” she answered. “Father Tolbert introduced us the year after we adopted Samuel. Why?”

Thorne edged forward. “Honey, we’re here following up a lead that Samuel’s kidnappers are in Rome.”

Alison’s mouth opened, but she was unable to speak.

“We knew this would be a shock,” Robert added. “But there’s more.”

Alison looked over at Robert in wonder. “More?” she asked.

“We have reason to believe Cardinal Polletto may be involved, or have knowledge of the kidnapping.”

Alison snapped to her feet. “That’s impossible! Why would he do such a thing?”

Thorne stood, walked over and put an arm around her. “We understand your hesitation,” she said, calm and soothing. “But you know us, we take our job seriously, and this is Samuel we’re talking about.” Alison shook her head. “I just can’t believe it. Have you told the FBI?”

Thorne eased Alison back down in her chair, but remained at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Robert leaned forward. “We don’t want to involve them,” he answered. “If we do, we’ll lose control. It’ll become a circus and tip our hand.”

Alison put her head in both hands and took a deep breath. When she emerged, both eyes were red and puffy. “What next?” she sniffled.

Robert cleared his throat. “Right now we’re keeping a close watch on the kidnappers, waiting for them to move. When they do, we’ll move in and take them down.”

Alison began to shake. Thorne massaged her shoulders. “It’s okay, honey, we’re right here for you.”

“What can I do to help?” Alison asked, tears cascading down her cheeks.

Robert knelt in front of her. “Just sit tight as though everything is the same. Don’t give any hint of what we told you to anyone, and we’ll bring Samuel home.”

Alison froze. “Bring him home? How can you be so sure?” Robert smiled. “We’ve seen him. He looked okay.” Alison leapt forward and wrapped her arms around Robert, almost knocking him over. “Thank you, Robert. Thank you.” Robert hugged her tight. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low, cracking.

“We love Samuel, and we’ll do everything we can to get him back.”

“Hey, let me get some of that,’ said Thorne, walking over. Alison hugged Thorne tight.

Robert gave a heavy sigh of relief, happy that Alison was back on their side. She let go of his partner and faced him.

“Forgive me for the way I acted back in Chicago,” said Alison, looking ashamed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, we understand,” said Thorne. “You were under more pressure than anybody should have to handle.”

“Yes,” added Robert. “We never blamed you. You’re family.” Alison eased down in the chair. “What do I say if Cardinal Polletto finds out you were here?”

“Tell him we’re here on another case,” said Robert. “If he wants to know more he can find us.”

“Yes,” added Thorne. “We’re ready for him.” Alison shook her head again. “Cardinal Polletto? It’s still so hard to believe.”

“We’ve seen stranger things, trust us,” quipped Thorne. “You just make sure you call us if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

“Yes,” added Robert. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.” Alison’s forehead wrinkled. “If Cardinal Polletto has Samuel, why would he invite me here?”

“He probably feels like he has more control over the situation if he can keep a better eye on you,” said Robert.

“Yes,” added Thorne. “If he meant to harm you, he would’ve done it in Chicago.”

“But why does he want Samuel?” asked Alison.

Robert looked over at Thorne, whose eyes said,
don’t you dare.

“We don’t know,” Robert lied. “But it doesn’t matter, all we care about is getting him back.”

Fifteen minutes later, Robert and Thorne were on their way back to Trevi Fountain to be picked up by Sister Isabella. Alison watched them cross the courtyard from her window. Father Ortega exited the bathroom and slipped his .45 automatic back in its holster. He stood behind Alison, watched Robert and Thorne disappear around a corner, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed.

Robert and Thorne reached Trevi Fountain early, and waited, not noticing the thinning pale-skinned man behind them, sporting freshly cut blond hair. Collar up on his black leather jacket, Father Tolbert eyed them, working up his nerve. When he finally did, a car, driven by a serious-looking dark haired woman, who reminded him of Sister Isabella, quickly pulled up and swooped them away.

Father Tolbert had gotten wind of Alison Napier’s arrival. He too had a few connections in Rome. He staked out the hotel, knowing Samuel’s godfather would show eventually, and trailed them to Trevi Fountain after they left the hotel, but lost his nerve. Now, they were gone. He looked around and made sure he hadn’t been noticed.
I’ll make
the rounds and watch the hotel until they show again.

The priest wandered through the ancient streets, back to the small, hidden hotel where he felt safe.

C
ardinal Polletto, sore from the tussle with Father Tolbert, rubbed the small of his back as he made his way out of Bracciano Castle’s large, high-ceiling bedroom, where he’d been recuperating for the past few days. He walked down to the library, Pope’s Hall, where he was greeted by low-level members of The Order, who avoided eye contact with him.

He could hear and feel their whispers as he eased by.
He let Father
Tolbert get away.

The cardinal covered for Father Tolbert at the Vatican Archives, but soon, Cardinal Maximilian or others at the Vatican would become suspicious and start asking questions. Attention he did not need. But it wasn’t the Vatican that worried him; his real concern came from The Order. He would be severely dealt with if Father Tolbert wasn’t found.

The priest was a very important part of the equation, and the ritual could not take place without him.

Two doors down from his bedroom, Father Sin, shot, but not dead, recuperated. Thankfully, the bullets hit the meaty parts of his right shoulder and left thigh, and passed in and out without breaking any bones. Unfortunately, it took over an hour to find him, and by then, he’d lost consciousness, and a lot of blood. The doctor who examined him, faithful to The Order, said the large, muscular priest would soon be up and around with sufficient bed rest. Cardinal Polletto practically had to threaten Father Sin to keep him in bed, to prevent him from going out to search for Father Tolbert.

Bishop Giordano had ordered their people to get rid of the old man’s body they found next to a crashed car. Father Sin told them that the old man gave Father Tolbert a ride, and refused to pull over. Both cars and the body were weighted down and submerged in the middle of the lake.

By the time anyone found them, it would be too late.

Inside Pope’s Hall, Cardinal Polletto sat down behind a large, dark wooden desk and waited for his guests to arrive. He ordered two hirelings to bring a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine. They came back with the ice water and a bottle of Chateau Margaux, one of his favorites.

He uncorked the bottle himself, a special pleasure he took delight in like a child unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. He closed his eyes and sniffed the cork, the richness of the dark grape pleasantly assaulting his senses. He waved off everyone in the room and poured himself a glass. He didn’t taste it right away as most did; the cork had told him everything. If the aroma was bad, so was the bottle, and he’d never let it touch his mouth.

Not long after he’d finished his first glass, Bishop Giordano entered with his guests, Rinaldo and Dianora.

“Hello, my friends,” said the cardinal, walking around and giving them both big hugs.

Bishop Giordano backed out of the room as Rinaldo and Dianora sat down in front of the desk. Cardinal Polletto poured them both a glass of wine without asking, knowing they’d appreciate the finely aged grape.

Rinaldo owned several vineyards in Italy, and as with most of her father’s ventures, Dianora was closely involved, and as much an expert as the two of them.

“I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” said the cardinal, taking his seat.

“For you, it’s not a problem,” said Rinaldo, his nose hovering above the wine goblet. “I hope the child is still secure.”

“Yes, your men have done a great job guarding him. I appreciate your kindness,” said the cardinal.

“It’s the least we could do for one of father’s oldest friends,” said Dianora.

Cardinal Polletto let his eyes discretely wash over Rinaldo’s buxom daughter. She reminded him of Sophia Loren in her younger days, and the cardinal wondered what his friend of fifty years would think if he knew he had already tasted her sweet nectar.

“Thank you for the compliment,” he told her. “But I have another assignment for you. Several, in fact, that require the utmost discretion.” Rinaldo’s face remained stoic. Dianora smiled.

“One of our priests, Father Charles Tolbert, is missing and must be located quickly.” He handed pictures of the priest to each of them. “He may be injured, so I suggest you start at the hospitals and clinics.” Rinaldo pulled a set of wire-rim glasses from his inside jacket pocket and examined the photo. Dianora barely gave hers a glance and slid it inside her bra.

“And your second problem?” asked Rinaldo, his eyes still glued to the photo.

Cardinal Polletto stood, walked over to the door, checked the hallway, then closed and locked it shut. He resumed his seat. “The next issue at hand is quite a bit more sensitive, but very profitable.” Rinaldo raised his head and gave a sinister smile. “Who do you want us to kill?”

Cardinal Polletto liked Rinaldo. The old man stayed a few moves ahead of the game, and had never let him down.

“His name’s Cardinal James Francis Maximilian.”

“Il Negro?” asked Rinaldo, stroking his chin. “He’s one of the Holy Father’s favorites. The Vatican will use all of its resources to find the killer.”

“Leave the Vatican to me. I understand there’s going to be a change soon, so name your price.”

The old man’s eyes darkened, his brow furrowed. “Five hundred thousand to find Father Tolbert, two million to eliminate the cardinal,” he said.

The price was more than Cardinal Polletto wanted to pay, but money was no object. Besides, he knew the risk Rinaldo would be taking. His entire operation would be eliminated if they were caught.

“Done,” the cardinal finally said. “If you need any of my people, they’re at your command.”

“How soon does this need to take place?” asked Dianora.

“I need Father Tolbert right away, today if possible. Once we have him, the other problem should be dealt with immediately. If possible, make it look like an accident.”

Rinaldo nodded. “If we can, we will. But to kill such a man, we may have to take what we can get.”

Cardinal Polletto understood. “I trust your judgment as always.” Dianora leaned forward on the desk, her chest resting on the polished wood. “Then there’s only the matter of payment. One million now, wired to an account in the Isle of Man, the rest after we deliver.” Cardinal Polletto thumped the table, staring at them both, but he didn’t have time to negotiate. “Done. Let’s get on with it.” The three worked out several final details. When they finished, Cardinal Polletto walked them to their car, bid them both well, then headed for the area where the ritual would take place.

Outside, in the mid-morning sky, a splattering of billowy cotton ball clouds floated north with the strong wind. Cardinal Polletto, his crimson vestment flapping with each gust, pushed through to the north side of the castle, where construction of a small three level arena, flanked by stadium lighting, was nearly complete. The seating could comfortably hold the carefully chosen audience of just over a thousand supporters and members of The Order. While the second level, down seven stairs, would stage the ritual and seat The Order’s counsel.

On the beach, guard posts had been set up to keep any nosey wanderers from walking up on the ritual, a precaution supported by two teams of Rinaldo’s machine gun toting men spread out in the woods.

Cardinal Polletto wasn’t worried about the area west of the castle, because the lake stretched more than two miles to Trevignano.

The final level was a short step-down to a large wooden deck where the twenty-five children would be herded, along with Samuel and his two brothers. Just the thought sent Cardinal Polletto’s heart fluttering.

The cardinal moved past the stadium seating and stepped down to the ritual stage. He looked out over the water and took in the spectacular scene. He imagined the triumph he’d feel when the birth of the world’s most powerful figure since Christ, was acknowledged by his hand and ratified by the high-counsel of The Order. Cardinal Polletto would then be granted the responsibility of raising their newfound leader from pupil to world leader, and his place in history would be sealed forever.