The Secret Cardinal (9 page)

“Mercenaries?” The cardinal was incredulous.

“Volunteers,” Kilkenny replied. “Special Forces and CIA, but we'll
need permission to use them. I need the kind of people I can trust with my life.”

Kilkenny's eyes remained on the hologram of Chifeng Prison as he spoke, his face eerily illuminated by the computer-generated mirage. But the look of deep concentration that tightened his features waned, leaving behind determined calm.

“You're not intending to go into China yourself, are you?” Donoher asked.

Kilkenny nodded. “It's the only way to get the job done in time. Grin can handle the tech side of things without me.”

“This isn't what I brought you here for,” Donoher protested. “Your father will never forgive me.”

“I couldn't forgive myself if I let Yin continue to rot in that hellhole knowing that I could have gotten him out. I appreciate your concern for my father's feelings, but this isn't any different from my time in the Navy, and he should understand that.”

“There's still a chance the new pope will approve of your plan,” Donoher said, almost pleading.

“Are you willing to bet Yin's life on that?” Kilkenny asked.

Donoher considered the
papabili,
those cardinals considered favorites for the papacy. All were good, deeply religious men, but none possessed the fiery determination of the late pope. Most, if not all, would find the plan to free Yin provocative and far too risky.

“No,” Donoher conceded.

Kilkenny stood and turned toward Donoher. “Our choice really is now or never.”

“Then I can think of no greater honor to the memory of Pope Leo,” Donoher declared, “than to fulfill his last request.”

10

Donoher sat alone in a well-lit conference room in the catacombs. The table before him held several stacks of files covering all aspects of the Vatican's preparations for the upcoming papal funeral and the subsequent conclave. After Pope Leo XIV named him camerlengo, Donoher's predecessor, Cardinal Mizzi, forwarded to him a file box of information he had collected over the years in preparation for this day. Included were copies of letters from previous camerlengos about their experiences during past interregnums. Donoher found comfort in the wisdom of those men who had carried this burden before him.

The triangular speaker in the center of the conference table chimed. Donoher glanced at the caller-ID. It was his executive assistant, Sister Deborah.

“Yes, Sister?”

“Your Eminence, the video link you requested is ready.”

“Thank you.”

As he set aside the file he was reading, the flat monitor covering a large portion of the opposite wall filled with a test screen showing the logo of the Holy See. The still image quickly disappeared, replaced by a view inside another subterranean conference room thousands of miles away. Two men gazed back at him. Both appeared lean and fit for their age. The man on the left had a full head of silver hair; the other displayed only hints of gray around the edges. They were dressed in well-tailored suits, and the left lapel of each held a pin of the American flag. Donoher personally knew the man on the left; it was through the CIA director that he had requested this meeting. He recognized the man seated beside Jackson Barnett, though this was the first time he had ever spoken to him.

“Your Eminence,” the president began in a folksy west Texas drawl, “I would first like to express my deepest condolences and those
of the people of the United States on the passing of Pope Leo. I was privileged to have met with him on several occasions and benefited from his wisdom. The pope was a man of great faith and compassion, truly one of the most inspiring leaders on the world stage. He will be missed.”

“He will indeed, Mister President, he will indeed. Thank you for your kind words.”

“Kind words come easy when they're the truth. Director Barnett informs me you have a delicate matter you'd like to discuss with us.”

“That is correct, Mister President. Are you familiar with the case of Yin Daoming, the Roman Catholic bishop of Shanghai?”

“Chinese dissident,” the president recalled. “Been locked up for decades for being nothing more than a man of the cloth. He's got some family here in the U.S., in Connecticut. I've worked with one of the senators from up there to quietly prod Beijing into letting him go. Talks on that have never gotten anywhere.”

“That has been our experience as well,” Donoher said. “In August, the Chinese government murdered approximately five hundred of its citizens in a failed attempt to force Bishop Yin into publicly renouncing the Roman Catholic Church and the pope. Following this incident, His Holiness directed me to find a way to unilaterally free Bishop Yin.”

“Sounds like you're talking about a prison break,” the president said wryly.

“Yes, Mister President. We have devised a nonviolent way to free Bishop Yin. Just before his death, Pope Leo authorized us to proceed.”

“Is this why Nolan Kilkenny is in Rome?” Barnett asked.

Donoher nodded. “I needed someone with his particular background to study the problem, to see if our aim was even possible.”

“Kilkenny,” the president mused, then he turned to Barnett. “That the same fella who nailed the folks behind the attacks of the shuttle
Liberty
and that Chinese rocket?”

“
Shenzhou-7
, Mister President,” Barnett offered. “And yes, the gentleman working with Cardinal Donoher is the same man you remember from that incident.”

“He sure gets around.” The president chuckled. “The work
Kilkenny did last year put a bit of a thaw in our relations with the Chinese—nothing earth-shattering, mind you, but the tone has improved. Too bad we had to keep the wraps on that story—in my mind, the Chinese owe Kilkenny a medal.”

“What you're proposing will infuriate Beijing,” Barnett said to Donoher.

“The continued existence of the Roman Catholic Church in China infuriates Beijing. From the point of view of the Holy See, we have nothing to lose in freeing Bishop Yin.”

“But the United States stands to lose a great deal if we're implicated in any way,” Barnett countered.

“Cardinal, if you have a plan that you think will work, why come to us?” the president asked. “You have to know that even minor involvement on our part would be politically difficult for the United States.”

“The pope's death has made time a serious problem for us. In as little as fifteen days, the Church may have a new pope, at which time my directive from Pope Leo will, in all likelihood, be rescinded. We cannot possibly train our own people, get them into place, and free Bishop Yin in so short a time.”

“What makes you so sure the new pope won't finish what Pope Leo started?”

“Mister President, you yourself know how difficult it is to make a decision that will put people in harm's way. Pope Leo agonized for years over what to do about Bishop Yin, but after the August tragedy he found his patience at an end. I fear it will take years for the new pope, whomever he is, to reach the same conclusion—years that Bishop Yin may no longer have.”

“What do you need?” the president asked.

“Logistical support and manpower. Kilkenny intends to lead the team in himself. He wants to assemble a small force of volunteers who would be provided with new identities to conceal their ties to the United States.”

“Special Forces,” Barnett said. “Kilkenny was a SEAL and still has contacts in the service, including Admiral Dawson.”

“I thought you said your plan was nonviolent,” the president said.

“It is, Mister President,” Donoher replied, “and if everything proceeds as we hope, Beijing won't realize what has transpired until long after Kilkenny and his team have Yin out of the country.”

“And if everything doesn't go right, a handful of highly trained U.S. commandos might get themselves killed or captured inside China.” Barnett shook his head. “Mister President, this is a
very
dangerous thing to do.”

“So this jailbreak was Pope Leo's dying wish?” the president asked.

“It was,” Donoher replied.

The president thought for a moment before he spoke. “Freeing Bishop Yin would certainly have a lot of symbolic value, but the bottom line is it's the right thing to do. If it pisses off Beijing, well, we'll deal with it. Jackson, you're my point man on this operation. I want you to help Cardinal Donoher pull off this jailbreak, but make sure we have at least a fig leaf of deniability.”

“Yes, Mister President,” Barnett replied.

“And Cardinal, best of luck to you on this worthy endeavor. Perhaps we'll have a chance to talk further in Rome after the funeral. Pope Leo left a great legacy.”

“I look forward to it, Mister President.”

11

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

Jackson Barnett pressed the button for the seventh floor, an action repeated so many times it no longer required conscious thought—which was good, as he was concerned with a difficult problem. The director of Central Intelligence (DCI) knew the agency's activities in nations hostile to the United States carried an element of risk to the men and women involved. Nothing saddened Barnett more than the somber convocations held in the cavernous lobby, where he unveiled new additions to the constellation of black stars chiseled into the white marble wall. The stars represented the CIA's honored dead.

The doors slid open, and Barnett headed purposefully toward his office.

“Is the link set up?” Barnett asked as he approached the desk of his assistant, Sally Kirsch.

“They're waiting for you now,” Kirsch replied.

Entering his office, Barnett's eyes immediately darted to the flat rectangular display mounted on his wall. The conversation between the two people pictured there ceased as soon as he walked into view of the camera mounted atop the screen. On the right half of the split image sat Kilkenny, likely in the same Vatican conference room from which Donoher had spoken to the president a few hours earlier. Kilkenny looked tired and a bit disheveled in a sweatshirt and jeans, though Barnett had seen him in far worse condition on several occasions over the past few years.

Beside Kilkenny—virtually, though in reality in a MARC conference room in Ann Arbor, Michigan—sat a beautiful young woman with long black hair and almond eyes. Roxanne Tao was dressed impeccably
in a tailored suit. Barnett knew her to be a professional who went to great lengths to look and act the part. Pinned to Tao's lapel was a gold Chinese character representing the word
Qi
—the name of the CIA-backed venture-capital firm she represented in Ann Arbor.

“Good morning, Roxanne,” Barnett said, his South Carolina baritone rich with warmth. “I hope this impromptu meeting didn't disrupt your day too much.”

“Nothing that can't be rescheduled,” Tao replied.

“Good evening, Nolan.”

Kilkenny acknowledged the DCI's perfunctory greeting with a nod as he sipped on a Diet Coke. Barnett set his briefcase down beside the desk but remained standing. A prosecutor before embarking on a long and distinguished career with the agency, Barnett found he did some of his best thinking on his feet.

“Has Nolan briefed you on his latest project?” Barnett asked Tao.

“No, we were just catching up. It sounds as if things are a little crazy in Rome right now.”

“I have no doubt an element of madness is at work.”

Kilkenny eyed Barnett curiously as he spoke. Donoher had warned him that the DCI was less than enthusiastic about liberating Yin.

“I am just now returning from the White House,” Barnett continued, speaking directly to Tao, “where the president and I had a most interesting conversation with Cardinal Donoher. As you may or may not know, the cardinal was responsible for hiring Nolan as a consultant to the Vatican. Following the pope's death, Cardinal Donoher assumed stewardship of the Vatican City State and the Holy See. The subject of our conversation was a Roman Catholic bishop and Chinese dissident named Yin Daoming. Do you know of Bishop Yin?”

“To many in China, Bishop Yin is a heroic figure, a man of great courage and honor,” Tao replied. “That he is imprisoned is a crime.”

“Until a few days ago, I'm sad to say I'd never heard of Bishop Yin,” Kilkenny admitted.

“It's not surprising,” Tao said. “He is little known outside of China, and in China his name is mentioned only with great discretion.”

“Nolan, would you care to illuminate Roxanne on what you've been working on for the Vatican?” Barnett asked.

“I'm going to get Bishop Yin out of China, and I'd like your help.”

“Of course,” Tao replied. “What do you need me to do?”

“You spent a lot of time in China—I need your experience. I also need to procure some items over there, so if you still have any contacts that you trust, I need them too. And once our team is in place, I've got the role of a lifetime for you to play.”

“I'm certain Nolan wouldn't ask you to set foot in China if he had any idea of the risk it poses to you and to his mission,” Barnett said to Tao. “And since I have been ordered to provide covert support for this venture, I feel compelled to make full disclosure about your past work in China.” Barnett turned to Kilkenny. “You already possess the appropriate security clearance for this information, Nolan, and now you have the need to know. Roxanne, tell him.”

As Tao collected her thoughts, Barnett sat down in a brown leather chair, careful to remain in the camera's field of view.

“In the eight years prior to my arrival in Ann Arbor, I was a deep-cover agent for the CIA in Beijing. I was, in the parlance of my profession, an illegal. I had no papers, no diplomatic immunity, no status as a U.S. citizen. If caught, I would have been tried for espionage and, after a thorough interrogation, executed. Those were the rules governing my existence.