The Hand of Christ (30 page)

The Director remembered his oath; it was the sworn mission of The Order to control the reigns of the world, to have returned what the Church took from them so many centuries ago. It was the oath he was obligated to uphold. The Messenger was right about one thing: the Primitus does nothing to further the cause.

“
I am not at all happy with your methods. You are holding the Pope and Sterling as leverage over me, it is not a position I am comfortable in nor should I be in it. But I cannot disagree with you about the mission of The Order. The Primitus has been an obstacle and must be dealt with as was planned; it is our duty to the Order.”

“
I am glad to hear you say this, Director.”

“
Perhaps, I have been hasty, but I am still not without reservations. It’s just that so much has happened so quickly and an attempt on the Pope’s life, should it succeed, could lead to all out war between the two halves of the world: a third World War. That wasn’t part of the plan; we must not forget what our history has taught us.”

“
Director, it is because of our history that I am doing this; I have not forgotten.”

“
But it was the failed design by the Order of the previous World Wars that taught us that such a method does not work. From chaos we cannot find control; those wars drove us backward rather than forward; killing the Pope will lead to such a war! Iran has nuclear weapons because of Operation Merlin, because of us!”

The Director’s fears were beginning to return and he shouted, “Iran will be immediately blamed for the Pope’s murder as retaliation for the Ayatollah and will be attacked. Iran will counter. We do not control Iran yet; this is suicide. It will not work!”

“
That is where you are wrong Director; we do not need to control Iran, at least not yet. We only need to control her missiles. Thanks to Sterling, and thanks to Operation Merlin that control will soon be mine. As I said before, there will be war, Mr. Director. I will be in touch soon.”

With a series of metallic scratches the line went dead.

The Director knew that what the Messenger had said was true: all they needed was to have control of Iran’s missiles. Splitting the key codes for the missile guidance systems into two parts had been the Primitus’s doing, it ensured that no man would have access to too much power. The Messenger only had one part of the guidance missile codes, and had said that Sterling would help get the other part.

Impossible, Sterling knows nothing of the codes,
thought the Director.

Sterling may have survived the attack on the Mosque, but the Director had plans in place to fix this. The Messenger is a resourceful man; the Director would give him that. Decades ago he had handpicked the Messenger for entry into the Order and had taught him nearly everything he knew before the Messenger had become the Primitus’s Second. But there were some things that he purposely had left out when he had instructed the future Messenger of the way – the Order’s way. No member of The Order teaches a Second everything. That only comes with time and with proven worthiness.

While his private cell phone was still in secure mode, the Director dialed a series of numbers beginning with the country code for Rome. The ringing of the phone inside the walls of the Vatican was in a distinct and uniquely broken tone, a bit like Morse code. The unusual ring let the man that would answer on the other end know who was calling even before picking up the handset. On the fifth ring, the number of rings established by protocol, the line was answered, “Hello, sir. It has been awhile.”

The Director was also familiar with Sun Tzu; smiling, he recalled an applicable quote:

The enemy’s spies who have come to spy on us must be sought out, tempted with bribes, led away, and comfortably housed. Thus they will become double agents and available for service.

The Director was calling his new Second, a man that thus far has proved himself a capable double agent.

“
Hello, Geoffrey, give me an update on your status. Have you located the parchment?”

“
Yes, sir, I have. What are my orders?”

“
Do nothing. Leave the Pope to his fantasies, they will keep him preoccupied and distracted. Continue to tell the Messenger you haven’t yet found where the Pope keeps the document. You have done well, Geoffrey. I will contact you soon.”

The line went dead.

Geoffrey returned the handset slowly to its cradle. This was the moment for which he waited. He had suffered for so many years under the pompous traditions of the Vatican, and sacrificed so much of his life for The Order.

When younger, Geoffrey had spent many humbling days doing his monastic service for the Church: on his hands and knees, he scrubbed the dirt from countless floors; he cleaned the never ending layers of pigeon excrement from the window; he did the bidding of every visiting Cardinal and Bishop, and when much younger, even being forced to play parthenos and vessel for a certain vile priest. Geoffrey cringed at this thought and shouted out his next, “Hypocrites! Dirty and filthy hypocrites!”

Fueled by his hatred of the Church and sworn desires and allegiance to The Order, for years he toiled endlessly in his theology studies, having received two well-earned doctorates along the way. The Order asked for him to be patient; he had been. They asked him to work hard; he did. He was diligent, foregoing personal freedoms, to be a rising star in the Church. His work paid off as he earned his place next to the Pope.

He did everything they asked and now he was right where they wanted him to be.

Every Cardinal that crossed his path blazed his envy upon him, all except for one – the One – the Preferred. Geoffrey could see in their eyes how much the Cardinals despised him; they looked upon him as if he were next to nothing, all except for the One.

The old Cardinal had guided Geoffrey’s career, but had instructed him to be patient, and this was exactly what Geoffrey did: patiently he had waited; patiently he did what he had been told; patiently he had complied with the One: working, waiting, and never complaining. He had waited a long time for this day, and now that day was here.

Soon, I will no longer be a Second, but a Cardinal, the Preferred Cardinal! Soon I will have what I want. When he becomes the next Pope, I will no longer bow at the feet of these velvet-robed men, they will bow to me!

Chapter Thirty

CIA – New Headquarters Building

Langley, VA

The Director set his cell phone on his desk and released it from his hand. He turned to the black, IBM T70 laptop computer sitting atop his desk; brushing aside some of the spilled sand and black rocks from its top, he opened it and powered it on. After entering in the appropriate password, the digitally encrypted system sprung to life.

Typing furiously, he issued his next set of orders.

His decision was made.

By now, the two-man team would be in place, their Handler’s flight would be touching down soon, and the Handler would receive the team’s further instructions within the hour.

Soon, the Messenger’s leverage would evaporate. Almost as if touched by the divine, the day felt better.

Chapter Thirty-One

Passenger Pickup

DIA – Denver, CO

The man from the middle seat watched as Michael disappeared downward on the escalator. Michael was headed to the platform where a train would take passengers arriving at Denver International Airport to the places to claim baggage claim and find ground transportation. Turning away from the escalator, he walked to the nearest ATM and inserted his VISA card. Making sure that no one was watching, he pushed the numbers of the requisite code into the machine. He entered in the instructions telling the machine what he wanted. Humming to life, the ATM quickly gave him his money. He grabbed the twenty-dollar bill that was dispensed along with the ATM receipt. Tearing the receipt from the machine, he quickly shoved it, along with the money, into his front pocket and walked away. The line to the ATM had grown long, and he was glad that he got there first; about a dozen passengers were now waiting for their turn.

The man from the middle seat took the escalator down to the train platform. At the bottom he peered around the corner; to his relief, Michael was long gone. It only took a few minutes for the next train to arrive; its arrival signaled by a pleasant, overhead female voice. The woman’s voice welcomed him to the Mile High City further cautioning him that the train for arriving passengers was about to be at the platform.

Once he was onboard, the double doors automatically closed; he sat at the back of the train in the only seating area that existed in the car. Everyone else was forced to stand and hold onto the straps that dangled from above. Fortunately, the car he chose only had five other passengers: a father that was preoccupied with his two young giggling children, and a young and clearly amorous German couple. (They were closer to him than the father and his loud kids, but clearly not paying him any attention; the boy had his hand inside of her jacket, and was coupling one of her quite large breasts.) Neither group was close enough to be considered a problem fully involved in personal affairs of their own.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ATM receipt, reading it he could see that his instructions were simple:

Eliminate subject.

Locate target.

Collateral damage approved.

His instructions received from the Director, the Handler’s mission was quite clear: kill Michael; find the book, and no survivors.

Soon, the pleasant female voice returned overhead letting him know that the train had arrived to his stop. After he exited the train, the Handler quickly found the car that waited for him; it was at the end of the passenger pickup area, just as was planned. The thin Rocky Mountain air instantly hit him; he thought to himself that he really needed to workout more as his breaths came quicker and labored. The two-man team he was there to meet was in a rented, grey Dodge Avenger that had been procured from one of the airport car rental companies. When the two men – Chris and Trevor – saw their Handler they stepped out of the car.

“
Did you have a good flight, sir?” The question came from the much taller of the two men.

“
It was fine for me, Chris, but not so fine for Dr. Sterling. The guy was throwing up all over the place. He really stunk up the plane. You’d think that by now he would have gotten past his nauseating fear of flying.”

Chris only shook his head and laughed, “You should have seen him when he came out of the Shadow and we told him that he was getting in a Hornet. I swear, I think he was out cold for most of the flight from the Mediterranean. I thought he was going to cry when we took him to the fighter at Skunk Works.”

Turning serious, Chris looked at his Handler and asked, “What are our instructions?”

The second CIA Officer moved in closer to hear the man’s response, “Termination authorized. We’ll conduct the ops tonight. Elimination of subject is our primary; the book is our secondary. Collateral damage approved. Have the two of you finished audio operations, have you been able to paint the windows with the directional laser, any positive hits?”

“
We tried using the laser, sir, but the target’s home has thick wooden slat blinds that have been closed the entire time. We can’t get the laser through them. The only windows where the blinds are drawn are on the third floor but there is no point outside of the home that gives us any trajectory with the lasers.”

“
I am not surprised; the target didn’t get to where he is by being stupid. Are the secondary listening devices in place, have you two conducted the recon?”

“
Yes, sir, the bugs are in place and operating. There was no need to use the silent drill, we used the new bugs.”

“
You used the new bugs, the ones that get their power from the air; are they working?”

“
Yes, sir, we have confirmed their functionality already, they are transmitting beautifully. Also, we have the blueprints for the home and have set up a preliminary launching point from the creek bed that is across from his house. The area is dense with trees and shrubs eliminating detection by sight and the high water flow of the creek will mask a lot of noise.”

“
What about the weather, what’s your meteorological report?”

“
Recent thunderstorms have forced the local county to release water from the reservoir that is near the target’s home, that’s why the water flow is so high. The climate here is pretty dry, so the water builds up and flows fast. The water released from the reservoir upstream feeds directly into the creek. The creek is directly across the street from target’s home and has created nothing short of a roar. Thunderstorms are still in the area and should continue throughout the night. The water and storms will both muffle any sounds by the OH-58 Delta to those that may have their windows open. Damn lucky for us.”

“
Have you confirmed this by measuring the decibel level?”

Chris responded with a bit of sarcasm to his Handler’s question, “I am offended, sir, you mock my professionalism. Of course I measured it. The only thing the neighbors will hear if anything at all is the wind from the rotors, which will sound just like normal wind. The Delta’s rotors are retrofitted and silenced with dampeners, both front and rear.”