Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God (26 page)

Less than a hundred yards from shore, he slowed down.
There is one
person. I…I must contact Samuel’s godfather, Robert Veil.

The boat reached land. Father Tolbert jumped into the water and pulled it all the way on shore, then looked out over the water. Quiet and still, Bracciano Lake was a blanket of serenity. No movement or sound except for the animal inhabitants in the woods, who chirped, hooted, and howled.
A stranger is in our midst.

Feet as heavy as cinder blocks, Father Tolbert lumbered into the forest, dreading his decision to contact Robert Veil, knowing he’d have to confess his sins against Samuel, knowing it might cost him his life.
It
doesn’t matter, I’m ready to die.

The trees separating Trevignano from the lake were not nearly as dense as those on the other side, and Father Tolbert, cold and shivering, quickly found himself on a pitch-black road lined with empty bars and restaurants, closed for the night.

Trevignano, small and picturesque, almost hidden on the northern shores of Lake Bracciano, lay on a cliff at the end of a small bay; the secondary crater of an ancient volcano. The priest headed south and stayed close to the trees, where he could hide quickly if needed. He knew he was about thirty to forty kilometers from Rome, a walk that would take him deep into the following evening, less if he kept a steady pace.

He passed the last home in the small village, a large villa imbedded in the cliff. There was nobody in sight. He crossed to the opposite side of the street, where the brush offered better cover. Bracciano castle drew closer as he walked. Nervous, he kept a close eye out for any sign of Cardinal Polletto’s men. He was sure they wouldn’t expect him to come back by the castle, but erred on the side of caution, and stayed poised for the unexpected.

Father Tolbert heard the low rumble of an automobile coming his way, from Trevignano. He looked back and spotted two bright eyes steaming down the road he was traveling, quickly rolling in his direction.

He sprinted to the trees just off the lake.
If it’s them, I’ll swim for it. I’ll
have a better chance in the water.
The beams from the headlights caught him as he stepped in the woods. He stopped, hid behind a tree and stooped low. The car slowed to a near stop. Father Tolbert eased toward the water.

“Father,” a voice called from the car, “do you need a ride?” Father Tolbert’s heart raced. He eased out of the brush toward the car. Inside was a man nearly sixty, with a full gray beard, wearing round spectacles, and a white yachting cap.

Father Tolbert leaned inside and smiled. “Hello, I’m Father Tolbert,” he said, extending his hand. “How far are you going?”

“I’m Giovanni Telfair, and I’m on my way to Rome,” the old man said.

“Giovanni, a gift from God. Well, you’re just in time. I need a ride to Rome.”

Giovanni unlocked the door to the old, red Fiat. Father Tolbert eased inside. The car sputtered, picked up speed and they sped off down the road, drawing closer to Bracciano Castle.

“So, what has you out in the middle of the night, Father, if I may ask?” asked Giovanni.

Father Tolbert froze, then recovered. “My car broke down back in Trevignano, so I left it there and decided to travel by foot at night until I could get a ride, and here you are.”

“God does answer prayers,” Giovanni laughed, then barked a smoker’s cough and spat out the window.

The road they traveled curved and wound it’s way so close to Bracciano Castle, Father Tolbert saw people moving about inside and out.

“She’s still beautiful after all these years,” said Giovanni, gazing at the castle, as if it were his lover. “I look at her and my heart still flutters.”

Father Tolbert tensed up as the car hooked a curve a hundred feet from the castle. “I know what you mean,” he answered, his brow wet. He bit his bottom lip as the fortress disappeared behind them.

Ten minutes later, with the castle hidden by the distance and darkness, Father Tolbert relaxed and eased his seat back.

“Go ahead and rest, Father, I’ll wake you when we’re almost in Rome.”

Father Tolbert thanked his host, let his seat fall back further, shut his eyes, and turned his thoughts toward finding Robert Veil. A difficult task with a platoon of The Order’s faithful sure to be searching for him in every quarter in Rome.
I can’t walk around in these clothes. That’s the
first thing I’ll change, along with my hair. I’ll dye it another color,
maybe blond.
The more he planned, his confidence increased.
I can make
this work if I can just find Samuel’s godfather.

His thoughts bounced around in his mind, keeping pace with the Fiat as it navigated the rough, rocky road. He considered going to the American Embassy, or maybe checking every hotel in Rome. He dismissed the Embassy, which left the hotels. There were so many, Father Tolbert didn’t know where he’d start, but it was his best bet. He’d begin with the American hotels, then work his way around, changing his disguise every few days to make sure he wasn’t discovered.

Father Tolbert smiled. For the first time in his life, he knew he was doing the right thing, and no matter what happened, he was going to see it through. With his plan in place, he relaxed and dozed off to sleep.

In his dreams, he saw Samuel,
his
son, along with Eduardo and Felipe. They held out their hands and bid him to come. Innocent.

Inviting. He clenched his teeth. “No,” he shouted, in his dreams, “stay away from me! Please, go back!” The three boys continued to smile and walk toward him. He screamed louder for them to stop, as his member began to tingle. “Please, stop, I don’t want to…”

“Father, Father, wake up! You’re having a bad dream,” Giovanni cried, his voice distant and hazy.

A sudden bump jolted Father Tolbert awake and he snapped up.

“Asshole!” Giovanni shouted, looking in the rearview mirror.

Giovanni begged Father Tolbert’s forgiveness. Another bump jerked them forward. Whoever was in the car behind them was honking their horn as though they wanted to pass. Father Tolbert squinted, but the dark and dust prevented him from making out the person driving. The car rammed them again.

Giovanni eased the car over. “Go on,” he shouted, waving the car by,

“pass us if it’s that important to you!” The car hit them again, harder, forcing Giovanni to wrestle with the wheel to keep them from crashing into the trees. The old man reached under his seat and pulled out a revolver. “I think he’s a bandit,” growled Giovanni, cocking back the hammer. “Get down, Father, I’m going to shoot!”

Father Tolbert crouched low, but kept his eyes on the car behind them. Giovanni pointed the gun out the window. The other driver sped up and tried to force them off the road. Giovanni dropped the gun on the floor and hit his brakes. The Fiat’s brake lights were enough to illuminate the driver chasing them.
Father Sin!

“Keep going,” Father Tolbert bellowed, “I’ll get the gun!” Giovanni hit the accelerator. Father Tolbert snatched up the gun, rolled down his window, pointed and fired, sending Father Sin swerving back and forth, fishtailing off the road.

“We’ve lost him,” said Giovanni, his voice cracking.

But as soon as the words left the bearded Italian’s mouth, headlights zoomed up fast. This time, Father Sin hit them so hard, the back wheels of the Fiat lifted off the ground. Giovanni cursed. The car spun around, tossing Father Tolbert against the door. They flew off the side of the road, down a steep ravine, and crashed into a tree. Father Tolbert felt a bone numbing pain all over his body. His back felt like someone beat it with a baseball bat, and his head threatened to explode. He got his bearings and realized he was upside down.

“Giovanni,” he gasped, “are you okay?” There was no answer. The priest righted himself and opened his door.

On the ground in front of him was the revolver. He picked it up.

Father Tolbert looked back inside the car. The driver seat was empty. In the moonlight, he saw that the front windshield was bashed out, and spread out over the hood was Giovanni, his head a bloody mess; completely crushed, the white captain’s hat covered with matted gray hair and thick, dark blood.

Father Tolbert checked for Giovanni’s pulse, nothing. He said a prayer and pleaded with God for Giovanni’s soul.
He’s dead because of
me.
He heard the crunch of leaves and brush, looked up the hill, and saw a flashlight beam, which fell on his face.

“Don’t move!” shouted Father Sin.

A sharp pain needled Father Tolbert’s legs, but he forced them to move, and ran deeper into the woods. He looked back, Father Sin was gaining and he couldn’t run any faster. He closed his fists. His right hand was wrapped around something hard.
The gun!

Father Tolbert stopped, turned and fired twice. The flashlight disappeared. He hobbled out of the woods onto a main road. He turned around, Father Sin was right behind him, mouth frothing, eyes blazing.

Father Tolbert ran to the other side of the road into another wooded area.

He leaned against a tree and peered out at Father Sin, who was crouched low, zig zagging across the street. Father Tolbert couldn’t move. Father Sin drew closer. Father Tolbert grit his teeth, pointed the revolver and fired twice more, sweat burning his eyes, blurring his vision.

When his vision cleared, Father Sin lay face down on the side of the road. Father Tolbert waited, but Father Sin didn’t move. He closed his eyes and begged God for forgiveness.

Father Tolbert waited for ten minutes. When nobody else showed up, he limped down the road, toward Rome.

R
obert looked down from the countryside villa over Castelnuovo di Porta, the medieval hilltop village, where he and Thorne were staying as guests of Il Martello di Dio, the Hammer of God.

The lush green valley with its crisp, clean morning air, and soothing surroundings, were a far cry from the pollution filled congestion of Washington D.C., where Robert and Thorne lived and worked. Sister Isabella told him that the village hadn’t changed much in a century, except for a few creature comforts like running water, electricity, and villas like theirs, with swimming pools and modern appliances.

A hawk swooped down out of the clouds and hovered over the treetops, effortless and smooth. Robert scanned the forest below, his mind on Samuel. He wondered if his godson was still safe, and if he knew that it had been his godfather signaling from the grass.

Two days had passed since Robert first saw Samuel up close. He wanted to rush in and take him back right away, but it was decided by their hosts that it was safer to keep their distance and not risk giving away their presence until a plan was in place. Robert disagreed, but outnumbered, including Thorne, agreed to abide by the decision to limit their observation to the woods, keeping a good distance from the castle where Samuel was being held captive.

It encouraged Robert to see Samuel walk the yard in front of the building the past two evenings. Both nights, Samuel edged close to grass where Robert had hidden the first night they spotted him. He wondered if his godson was looking for another sign, and what he felt when it didn’t come.

“We’ll get started in about five minutes,” said a voice behind Robert.

Sister Isabella, her rich blue eyes as bright as her smile, handed him a cup of steaming coffee with milk and sugar, just as he liked it. “We’re waiting for Bishop Ruini.”

“Thank you, Sister,” answered Robert, taking a small sip of the brew.

The nun offered to prepare Robert some breakfast, but he declined.

He hadn’t been able to eat much since spotting Samuel. Thorne had finally convinced him to eat dinner the night before, by threatening him with shotgun therapy, but this morning coffee was enough.

Robert followed Sister Isabella back to the living room. They’d been working twelve-hour shifts out in the woods, including all night the night before, and the nun worked in jeans and sweaters. Robert caught himself on more than one occasion admiring what God had given the strong, beautiful woman, but more than her beauty, it was her gentle strength that caught his attention. She always seemed to be thinking two steps ahead, a chess player ready to pounce.

But Robert snapped himself out of it.
She’s a nun.
Besides, he had a girlfriend back in Washington, Fiona Patrick, a Supreme Court Justice no less. Although their relationship hit a snag right before he left for Chicago, he loved her, and hadn’t even considered another woman since they became an item. He had saved her life while working another case, and in a way, she had saved his.

Bishop Ruini arrived and apologized for his lateness. On the off chance that he’d been followed, he took a long route to the villa, to make sure he wasn’t tailed.

“Cardinal Maximilian will be here soon,” the bishop told them. “He says he has important information he wants to discuss personally. I’m sure he’ll be taking the long route too. He said we should go ahead and start without him.”

Everyone gathered in the living room. Father Kong arrived from his shift at the castle. He assured Robert that he left two capable replacements in his place, to keep track of the comings and goings in and out of the castle.

Thorne sat down on the couch next to Robert, sporting black jeans and a matching long sleeve body shirt, similar to those football players wore under their equipment. The outfit left little to the imagination.

When he whispered, “Is that appropriate?” she leaned into his ear, and said, “
They’re
nuns and priests, not me.” Father Kong started the meeting with a report that nothing had changed at the castle during the night, except for a new set of armed guards who replaced the others.

“It’s been forty-eight hours,” said Robert, finishing his cup of coffee.

“I don’t want to wait much longer. They could move Samuel at any time.

We need to make preparations to get him, now.”

“We understand,” answered Bishop Ruini. “We want to rescue him too, but caution is our ally. Our plan must be foolproof.”