The Hand of Christ (63 page)

The dog emerged unseen from between two cars that were parked along the road. It was at the moment that Michael had returned his attention from the street sign to the road when he saw the dog and instinctively swerved to the right. At that very same moment, a 1971 convertible Mercedes 280 SL Roadster – one of only 830 built – was edging into the street from an alleyway and just in front of one of the parked cars. The scooter slammed into the side of the car, catapulting Michael over its hood and onto the street.

Michael was lying face down and not moving.

York screamed, “Oh my god! Professor!”

Silence.

“
Professor, can you hear me!” Come on! Get up!

Nothing. The thermal image of Michael didn’t move. Others were surrounding him.

The President was in the dark, “Corporal! What’s going on? What happened?”

“
Sir, there was an accident. A car pulled in front of him, he’s not moving!”

Chapter Seventy-One

The Old Lateran Palace

Rome, Italy

Yousef’s smile wasn’t long lived.

Through the two doors of the large room spilled six men in dark suits. They were formidable and with looks that weighed serious. Each man was holding a Heckler & Koch XM8 submachine gun affixed with laser sights. The room was suddenly striated with red laser beams each of which was firmly glued to their target. Yousef stood immobile in the room.

Behind one of the men, an old man walked in. He surveyed the room. The body of the dead Director was to his right. He ignored it. He walked over to the fireplace and saw the burning body of his faithful assistant. He made the sign of the cross and quietly spoke, “You served me well; you served us well. Rest in peace my friend.”

The Primitus – the real Primitus – faced the Messenger, and said, “The Order and its masters have survived numerous attacks on its existence and over many centuries. Some of those attacks had come from within. Some have been victims while others have survived. Over time, we have learned a number of valuable lessons from this treachery.”

Yousef carried the look of a man defeated. Fear flowed through him in waves. It was an emotion that he was unaccustomed to having. He tried to speak but found it difficult, “Y-y-you are the Primitus?” He pointed to the man in the fire, “Who-who is that?”

“
That man was a Theatine monk and my friend! For nearly fifty years he stayed true to his vow and had served the Order. For nearly fifty years he stood at my side. His one purpose was to protect me from the likes of you! Everything that you have done, every step that you have taken, every phone call you have ever made has been monitored and from the moment you were allowed into the Order. We trust no one!”

Two of the armed men had Yousef by each arm; a third was behind him with the steel barrel of the XM8 pressed against that back of his head. Reaching around Yousef, one of the armed men took the Russian pistol from his hand and put it into his jacket.

“
Bring him here,” commanded the Primitus.

The men obeyed. Yousef was standing in front of the two leather chairs. The Primitus nodded.

A heavy boot swung across the front of his legs; Yousef’s feet were violently kicked out from underneath him. With a heavy thud, the short man was on his knees. The armed men were holding one of Yousef’s arms firmly across a long marble table that was in front of the two chairs. Two more men joined in to keep Yousef from moving.

The Primitus leaned lower and said, “Monsieur Messenger, you have taken our book; you have stolen from the Order. There is one punishment for that crime.”

The Primitus reached into the fire and removed the poker. Yousef felt a terror unlike any before. The Primitus moved closer.

“
That punishment for stealing, Monsieur, is well known to your kind.”

At that moment the Primitus laid the end of the nearly molten iron rod across Yousef’s wrist. The end of the rod was glowing white-hot and sizzled loudly as it burned easily through Yousef’s arm. Like a hot knife through butter, the rod easily cut off Yousef’s hand just below the wrist. The smell of burnt flesh and bone had no effect on the hardened and well-armed men. They hung firmly onto him as he writhed from the pain. Yousef tried to scream but nothing came out. The reflection of the burning rod bounced off the whites of his eyes as he lost consciousness.

“
Put him in the chair,” commanded the Primitus to his men. Quickly, the men complied.

The Primitus put the poker back into the fireplace and then knelt in front of his Messenger. He looked at the stump where his hand used to be, it had been neatly cauterized, and there was very little blood. For a moment, the Primitus stared at an unconscious Yousef, and thought,
I had such hopes for you
.

Another moment went by and then the Primitus slapped him.

Yousef didn’t respond.

He slapped him again.

Yousef stirred in the seat slightly then, as if struck by lightning, he shot up and let out a deafening scream. Immediately, two men grabbed him and shoved him back in the seat.

His bald head was encased in sweat; tears from the pain streamed from his multi-colored eyes and down his thick cheeks. “What are you going to do with me?”

“
I am going to send you back to where we found you.”

At that moment, Monsignor Geoffrey Hauptmann burst through the doors. Four of the men trained their weapons on him.

Geoffrey threw his hands up, shielding his face, but forgot that one of them was painfully without three of its fingers as he screamed in both pain and fear, “Don’t shoot!”

The Primitus called out, “It’s alright. Put down your weapons. He is one of us.”

He walked to the hurt priest and reached out for his hand. Slowly he undid Geoffrey’s bandages and surveyed the wounds. “They still bleed. Come. Come with me, they need immediate attention.” The Primitus gently guided Geoffrey closer to the fire. Geoffrey did not argue.

The two men – Primitus and Priest – walked near the body of the Director; the sight of the dead man pleased Geoffrey. As the two men walked to the second chair, Geoffrey made eye contact with Yousef. He saw the place where his hand used to be and felt nauseated. Yousef looked at Geoffrey and was confused, but didn’t say a word.

“
Sit, Geoffrey,” the Primitus commanded.

Obediently, Geoffrey sat and then said excitedly, “It worked, Your Holiness, it worked!” Geoffrey looked upon the man in a manner not unlike the way a son stares upon his father.

Reaching for the poker once more, the Primitus ignored Geoffrey’s excitement, and commanded in a paternal voice, “My son, this will hurt but is necessary. Hold out your hand.”

Tentatively he put it forward; one of the armed men grabbed Geoffrey by his injured hand and held onto it firmly.

“
Are you ready my son?”

Geoffrey sheepishly nodded.

The sizzling of the flesh singed the air. The Primitus sealed the wounds on Geoffrey’s hands by burning them closed. Geoffrey sat stoically letting out no more than a long grunt.

The Primitus returned the poker to the fire and then went back to priest. He removed his own sash and gently wrapped Geoffrey’s hand once more. “You will be fine. It will take some time, but your wounds will heal. Now, give me the codes, Monsignor.”

Geoffrey tried to reach into his cassock pocket with his uninjured hand, but it involuntarily shook as his body reacted to the pain raging through it. The Primitus saw this, reached into Geoffrey’s pocket for him, and pulled out the piece of paper that Michael had written the codes.

He looked at the codes.

He smiled.

He looked at one of his men who understood the silent communication. Stepping forward, the man removed a small and flat bag from his shoulder. He opened it and pulled out a laptop, which he set on the table. The man plugged in a telescoping antenna and raised it. He then punched a number of commands onto the keyboard; soon the laptop was ready for use.

Quickly, the Primitus typed in the numbers that Michael wrote on the piece of paper, and then spoke to Yousef, “When I first learned of your attempted coup, I was blind with anger, and had every intention of squeezing the life from you both. But then I realized that if you two were successful at stirring in the ingredients necessary for a war between the US and Iran, our mission – the Order’s mission – could be quicker fulfilled. Like your admired Sun Tzu had once said…”

Yousef was hovering painfully between two worlds. Drool had formed on and lingered from the corner of his mouth; his hold on conscious thought drifted without control. When he heard the name of the Warrior Poet uttered, he knew all was lost. He thought of Sun Tzu’s quote before the Primitus said it.

The victorious strategist only seeks battle after the victory has been won.

“
If only you had come to me with the idea, Yousef. But that would have been an impediment to your greater plans wouldn’t it? Your thirst for power made you blind and foolish. Did you really expect to take control of the Order?”

Yousef didn’t or couldn’t respond, and the Primitus put his focus back on the computer. Typing a few more commands, he was done. Appearing satisfied, he stood and smiled at his deflated Messenger.

“
Monsieur Messenger, you will get your war.”

Chapter Seventy-Two

Highway A81

Khorramshahr, Iran

Red lights on the vehicles spun without any order given to turn them on.

Warning sirens started to blare.

A rumble grew at the base of each Ghadr-110X as the small mists of smoke thickened from the chemical reaction that was now occurring inside of the missiles.

The Iranian servicemen were stunned and began to back away from the MZKT Transporter Erector Launchers. The ground started to shake from the roar that was coming from the engine assemblies. Not knowing what to do, the soldiers ran for cover.

Twelve nuclear-tipped weapons – each containing four warheads and two countermeasures – lifted away from its vehicle. Unknown to the Iranian soldiers, the electronic command for the launch sequence had been received from an overhead satellite.

The transmission contained the coordinates of their destinations: forty-eight major US cities.

Chapter Seventy-Three

NORAD

Cheyenne Mountain, CO

“
Dr. Sterling! Can you hear me?” Get up! CPL York’s pleas were going unanswered.

“
Oh no! Sir, get over here, NOW!” MSGT Bryan’s voiced bounced around the room catching everyone’s attention. CPT Scott looked over at MSGT Bryan’s terminal and could not believe what he saw.

“
Mr. President! Sir, the missiles have fired!” shouted CPT Scott.

Overhead the voice of the President rang loud, “CPT Scott! What did you just say?”

“
Sir, the missiles just launched! All of them are in the air!” he repeated.

The President took a moment to let the news sink in. His heart was racing but his reaction was calm, “Captain, confirm their flight paths, get me an ETA. General, take us to DEFCON 1 and get me the commanders of the 6th and 7th fleets on the horn!” Reserved only for imminent attack, up to this moment, DEFCON 1 had never been used.

The head of the NSA spoke in a solemn tone, everyone at NORAD heard what he would say; the intercom system in the Oval Office was still on:

“
Mr. President, if those missiles are headed toward the US, we will have approximately four minutes to respond!”

The President pressed a button on his desk. Almost instantly, two Secret Service Officers entered the room.

“
Gentlemen, secure the Vice President at our secondary location. Activate OPLAN 8044 Protocols for the White House.”

In 2003 the Department of Defense renamed the SIOP to OPLAN 8044 for the White House in order to not confuse the SIOP used by military forces.

The two Secret Service Officers didn’t show it, but surprise ran through them. Both simultaneously thought the same thing,
OPLAN 8044?

One of the Secret Service Officers grasped the Vice President of the United States by his elbow and said, “Sir, please follow me.”

The other spoke into the microphone attached on the inside of his sleeve and was holding open the door of the Oval Office for the Vice President. Six more Secret Service Officers filled the room.

The Vice President looked reluctantly at the President, and said, “Good luck, Mr. President.”

General Diedrick was on the secured satellite phone and ordered all of the Joint Chiefs to put every military reservation on alert, “Recall all troops. Leaves are cancelled effective immediately. Use SIOP Protocols. Gentlemen, this is real.” He hung up the phone.

The President spoke, “CPL York, I presume that you heard everything. If Dr. Sterling has any ability to stop this, he has less than four minutes! He is the only one that can stop two hundred million people from losing their lives! York, we need him! It is up to you to guide him!”