Papal Justice (27 page)

“No, no, no,” he said as he opened the hatch and stepped outside. “Get your weapons and follow me,” he called to his men over the sound of the helicopters engines. They only hesitated for a second and then they were right there with him. It would be stupid to run right into the enemy, but if the timing was just right, Felix could watch their demise. It might even be possible to get more footage of the event. He pulled out his cell phone as he moved, clicking on the video camera feature as he eased himself back over the low wooden fence. It was a risk to stay, but the payoff would make it worth his time.

+++

Our Lady of Joy Catholic Church

10:07pm

Cal listened to the voice from Yuma as he and half of the team burst into the church. They all knew where they were going and that the building was probably empty, but they still did it by the book, clearing as they moved.

They got to the chapel without incident, and then everyone froze when they beheld the scene in front of them.

“Mother of God,” Gaucho said.

The Pope was secured to the upright cross on the altar, thick metal chains running around his torso and along the lengths of his arms and legs. To make matters worse, there was an assortment of contraptions on the ground below the Pope. They bleeped angrily, red lights counting down the minutes and seconds before the explosives detonated.

Cal didn’t think, he just ran straight to the altar. The others followed him.

The largest digital display said two minutes when he got to the first step. He looked up at the Pope, who was thankfully conscious and fully aware of the peril.

“Get to safety,” the Pope said. “They have my hands shackled and the cross is cemented to the ground. Save yourselves.”

The Pope was right about the man-sized crucifix. Without a chainsaw, they weren’t getting him out. By now Brother Hendrik and his fellow monks were surrounding the Pope, pulling at the chains in a futile effort to get their master free.

The explosives were chained to the bottom of the cross or else they would’ve just moved them. There wasn’t time to disarm all of them. Cal was at a loss.

“You go,” Brother Hendrik said to Cal. “His Holiness is our responsibility now.”

It was a noble thing to say, but pretty fucking stupid in Cal’s opinion. Hendrik was just gonna let those jihadis win. He knocked over the tripod with the video camera and stomped his boot on the lens until it filmed no more. There had to be another way.

MSgt Trent moved up to the altar.

“I think I can do it,” he was saying to Gaucho.

Cal looked up in confusion.

“Do what?”

“Top thinks he can knock it over.”

Cal looked at the cross and shook his head.

“Even if you do, you’ll crush the Pope.”

Trent met his gaze.

“I can do it, Cal.”

There wasn’t time to do anything else.

“Okay. Go for it.”

Trent told everyone to move to the front. The rest of them would catch the cross, if and when it fell forward. The big Marine hustled around to the back and stepped far enough away to where he thought he’d have enough room to run.

“This might hurt a bit,” Trent said to no one in particular.

To Cal’s surprise, it was the Pope who answered. “I can take it if you can. May God give us strength.”

Something in the man’s words gave Cal a glimmer of hope, that maybe the idea of one man bulling over a six-by-six pole that was cemented into the ground wasn’t so crazy. He found himself saying a prayer as he lined up with the others.

Marine Master Sergeant Willy Trent let out a war cry, and sprinted for the cross.

Chapter 38

Across the Street From Our Lady of Joy Catholic Church

10:09pm

He laughed when he watched the men rush into the chapel on the video feed. They had quickly seen the futility of the situation and that made him laugh inside even more. While it might have been nice to have a remote detonator, the countdown was good for the audience. Felix imagined that the video editor would probably piece together a few clips of the countdown, along with the doomed look on the pontiff’s face. They’d gotten much better with their propaganda and this would set a new standard for decades to come.

Felix watched the operators as they tried to figure out what to do. And then he frowned when one of them knocked the camera over, and probably smashed it into pieces, because his feed went gray. It was a minor nuisance because he switched to the backup camera they’d installed high above the pews. It afforded Felix a nice view of the whole thing.

And then something strange happened. One man motioned for the others to move and he went deeper across the altar. The rest of the operators lined up in front of the Pope. The backup camera did not have audio, so he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He looked at the clock and saw there was one minute left. Whatever the enemy had in mind would never work, but the show might be nice. This part they’d surely have to edit out, unless someone saw the benefit of the last pitiful actions of the American weaklings.

Felix watched as the man who had been off camera a moment before sprinted back into the picture. The Spaniard pulled the tablet closer, his eyes widening at what he saw. He dropped the tablet on the ground, hoisted his weapon, and ran across the road.

+++

10:10pm

They burst from the building with seconds to spare, yelling for the men outside to seek cover. The splintered crucifix, along with the chained Pope, was being carried by Trent and Brother Hendrik. Nobody stopped, their momentum taking them as far as they could get.

And then the explosion enveloped the church, shaking the ground and throwing them all to the desert floor. When he lifted his head, Cal saw that Trent and Brother Hendrik had somehow kept the Pope from smashing his face in the dirt.

Luckily the Osprey had taken to the air just after dropping them off. Now it was hovering somewhere nearby. Cal tried to radio the pilots to tell them to land, but something wasn’t working with his headset. Maybe it was the explosion or just shitty luck, but it looked like they had to do it the old fashioned way.

“Gaucho, take some of the guys and see if you can signal the bird down. We need to get out of here.”

Gaucho nodded and grabbed a handful of men, switching on his flashlight as he left.

“Does anyone have comms?” Cal asked.

“I’m down,” Travis said.

“Me too,” Daniel added.

There wasn’t anything they could do about that for the time being. The priority was getting the Pope to safety. He wished he had confirmation about the bad guys. Having a bunch of jihadis running around in the middle of Arizona wasn’t Cal’s idea of a secure environment.

“Daniel, take some guys and make sure our friends aren’t still hanging around at the airstrip.”

“I’ll come with you,” Travis said.

Daniel nodded and told the others where he wanted them. As they went to leave, machine gun fire erupted from the road, followed by the thump of two grenade launchers. Everyone scattered and attempted to find cover. There wasn’t much. The rounds landed and Cal heard grunts through the ruckus.

“I’m hit,” said one of the TJG operators.

“Me too,” said another.

Dammit
, Cal fumed. Just when he thought everything was getting back on track.

He pushed himself off the ground and weaved his way toward the firing. Travis was a couple steps ahead of him, taking shots at targets Cal couldn’t see. Daniel was even farther still, leading the small pack of warriors, four monks among them.

There was another barrage of heavy fire, and Travis spun around and fell to his knees. Cal pulled him to the side and immediately saw blood running from more than one wound.

“You okay?” Cal asked.

“I’ll be fine. You keep going.”

Cal hesitated, staring at the pained, yet determined look on his cousin’s face.

“I’m serious, you go. I’ll wait here,” Travis said more forcibly.

There wasn’t time. He couldn’t even see Daniel anymore and the gunfire was picking up.

“Okay, but stay down,” Cal said.

Travis gave him a wink, and then gritted his teeth.

“Get a couple for me.”

+++

10:13pm

Daniel felt it when he took the first man out.
Four to go
, he thought, slipping into his former self, the animal that he’d made peace with long ago, and now let out only when the situation warranted a higher level of awareness. Two more rounds downrange and he saw his target fall back.

Two down. Three to go
.

+++

10:14pm

Father Pietro looked around at the destruction. He’d been with the Americans when massive Mr. Trent somehow cracked the crucifix from its perch. The priest knew in that moment that God was with them, that He would see them through.

That feeling grew as they’d run past empty rooms and out into the night, crashing to the ground as the world exploded around them. Then he saw men go down, heard their steady voices announcing their injuries. Something in him changed. No, it didn’t change, he went back, back to when he was not part of the Church, when he was an elite warrior sent in to do the impossible. When he was Gabriel Fusconi of the 9
^th
Parachute Assault Regiment. The feeling enveloped him, like an invisible suit of armor had just descended from the heavens and sealed itself around his body and soul.

The monks were with His Holiness, so now he had to do what was necessary.

He ran, slowly at first, and then faster. He found Travis Haden, the president’s chief of staff and Cal Stoke’s cousin, and skidded to a halt. Haden was wounded, his face was pale, but he was still conscious.

“Hey, Padre,” Haden said.

“How bad?”

“Bad, but I’ll live.”

Father Pietro nodded. “May I borrow your weapon?”

Haden looked at him in surprise, but reached for his rifle and a couple extra magazines. He kept the pistol at his side.

“You remember how to use one of these?”

The priest grinned.

“Always.”

He checked the chamber out of habit and clicked the safety on then off.

“I must go,” he said to Haden.

Haden grimaced, grabbing his stomach.

“Good luck,” he offered.

Father Pietro nodded and ran toward the gunfire.

+++

10:16pm

Felix hadn’t expected the counterattack. He thought the explosion would take out most, if not all, of the enemy. Wrong again.

He fired an extended burst, then lobbed a grenade from the cover of the shallow ditch. His companions were still firing, so at least he had that. Maybe he still had time to finish things. He hadn’t seen the American Osprey yet, so there was a chance that he could kill the Pope himself. It would involve martyrdom, but at least he had the chance to grab his tablet and upload the video he had. They could splice something together. The end result would be the same.

Felix said a silent prayer, gulped down his fear, and slipped across the road away from the firing.

+++

10:17pm

It was two against two. Cal and Daniel leapfrogged from concealment to concealment, using what little of it there was, mostly scrub brush. Cal’s trigger finger was ready when he saw target number one poke his head out. Two shots. Tango down.

Up and to his left, Daniel leapt over a short wall and into the street, no man’s land. Cal watched as the sniper ran at a full sprint, obviously seeing something that Cal couldn’t. Sure enough, a couple seconds later, the figure popped up, thinking he had the drop on Daniel. Bad move. Two shots from Daniel’s automatic weapons, then two more.

Daniel kept running and Cal jumped up to follow. By the time they got to the other side, things were quiet. They found four dead guys.

“Where’s the fifth one?” Cal asked.

+++

10:19pm

It was only a shadow that he saw. Instead of following the Americans, he went to the right, thinking that the enemy was trying to outflank them. His steps were steady as he stalked behind the creeping shadow. The weapon in his hands begged to be fired, but Father Pietro waited. He wanted to be sure.

+++

10:20pm

Felix got across the little side road without incident. He heard the firing stop from where he’d left his men and knew they were dead or soon would be. That was the price they’d agreed to. It looked like paradise would have more warriors to feed this night.

He pushed through the prickly bushes and stopped before he hit pavement again. Somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of the Osprey over the crackling of the fire that had now consumed three of the parish buildings. The light from the blaze illuminated the parking lot in a flickering glow, the smoke settling low in the windless night. The perfect cover.

Then he found what he was looking for: the cross surrounded by a handful of men. The smoke was closing in on them, and a few seconds later they were obscured from view. This was the best chance he had. He stood up and walked into the billowing darkness.

+++

10:21pm

The shadow disappeared in the gathering smoke, but Father Pietro knew exactly where his target was headed. He didn’t hesitate, fading into the fog, his heart pulling him forward.

+++

10:23pm