The Hand of Christ (51 page)

The assassin didn’t put him down right away, he watched as the young priest’s face turned bright red and then into a deep shade of purple. Geoffrey felt his vision fade to black as his eyes rolled deep into their sockets. The assassin thought how easy it would be to hold him like this until the priest met death, it would be just one more apostate dead.

Dropping him, he thought,
not today
.

Geoffrey fell to his hands and knees and coughed terribly. The muscles in his neck began to relax and his lungs begged for air. A spasmodic cough erupted from his throat. After a few moments, Geoffrey meekly said, “Go out to the Square at 12:30, and try to blend in with the tourists, but be careful.” Geoffrey stood and held one hand to his throat and leaned on the wall with the other.

Coughing a bit more, he repeated, “Be – be careful. Outside of this door is an iron gate.” Another cough. “There will be a guard. Don’t be seen. The Pope will walk through the Square sometime after 12:30, after his lunch. This will be your opportunity.”

Fully recovered from the crushing grip of the assassin, Geoffrey slowly and carefully sidestepped the angry gaze of the man and ensured that he was further than an arm’s length from him when he did. He left the Church without saying another word.

Finally alone, the assassin stood in the church. Looking around, he studied the grotesque features of the building. Every feature, painting, and mixture of colors disgusted him. It didn’t surprise him when he started to sweat cold. He was used to it by now.

I am hours away from their end
, he thought. Kneeling, he cared not that he was in their Church. He would pray until it was time, he would pray to be shown his path.

Chapter Fifty-One

Getting In

St. Peter’s Square

“
Jimmy, we need to get inside but there’s now way we will get past those Carabinieri with all of this firepower that we are carrying.”

Michael could feel the barely perceptible weight of the two Kel-tec P32 pistols in his pockets along with the short blades in his sleeves. Before the two men left the safe house, Jimmy had strapped a 9mm center-fire Ruger pistol to his side and under his coat.

Michael was right; it would be impossible for the two men to get past the officers.

“
We could try to find a different entrance, a back door. The Vatican has a railway station; we might be able to get in that way.”

“
No, Jimmy, it’s too risky. We’re going to go through the front door.”

“
What? How the hell do you propose that? You just said we couldn’t do it!”

No sooner had Jimmy finished the sentence did he notice Michael staring at two Polizia milling about the sidewalk next to where Jimmy had parked. The officers were admiring the white Porsche GT2.

It took Jimmy a moment, but he recognized the look on Michael’s face, “Oh, hell no, Michael! You think finding a back door is too risky, what you’re thinking is foolish. That would draw to much attention to…”

Jimmy stopped speaking; Michael wasn’t listening and had taken off in a sprint toward the officers.

“
Aw, shit!” Jimmy knew what Michael was up to. He sprinted after Michael instantly in character shouting, “Stop, thief! Somebody help!”

Michael raced past the two, surprised Polizia with Jimmy close behind. “Help me, he stole my wallet!”

Quickly, the two officers ran after Michael. Michael suddenly turned into a narrow alleyway between two buildings and the two Polizia followed, but were met with the small barrels of Michael’s two Kel-tec pistols pointed at each of their faces.

“
Do not touch your weapons, put your hands out to the side with your palms facing me, and get on your knees!” Michael commanded in marginal Italian.

The two officers complied without complaint just as Jimmy ran up behind them and with his own weapon drawn. He took the pistols that were strapped to their sides and effortlessly separated the sliding barrels from the body of the guns. He released the clip of ammunition from each and threw the separated portions of the guns onto the roof that straddled the alley. Then, he threw the barrels and bullets into the sewer.

One of the two Polizia bravely asked, “What do you want, are you going to kill us?”

“
Do as we say and you will be fine. Give me your badges,” the two men did as they were told and then Jimmy cuffed them together.

“
Listen to me closely; we know you are trying to find a killer. We are trying to find him too; we are on your side.”

The Polizia’s bravery continued to rise, “You are Americans, no? If you are here to help why have you done this?”

Neither Jimmy nor Michael answered his questions only pushing the two men toward a large square dumpster.

“
Climb in,” instructed Michael.

“
You can’t put us in there!” protested the same officer.

Jimmy cocked the barrel of his weapon indicating no desire to negotiate, “Do as he says, and get in the fucking trash can!”

The two Polizia obliged and climbed into a square bin that was just large enough to accommodate the two of them. The trash bin belonged to a restaurant and was full of bits of vegetables, discarded cutlets, and unconsumed table scraps. It reeked of rotten food.

Michael looked at the two officers and offered a simple apology, “Sorry to have to do this to you, but it’s necessary. When you get out of here, tell your boss that we know who the Iranian is and why he is in Rome. Tell him that we are here to stop him from killing the Pope,” he looked at Jimmy. Both men cracked the two officers atop their foreheads with the butts of their respective pistols rendering them both instantly unconscious.

Jimmy slammed the lid over the bin and turned its fastener. He sealed the officers in the bin, “That will keep them for awhile; how soon do you think before someone finds them?”

“
Probably sometime after the breakfast rush; let’s go.”

It only took a few minutes for Michael and Jeffrey to arrive at the entrance to St. Peter’s Square. The Vatican Police had set up wooden barricades that funneled visitors toward a narrow break in the barriers. They were manned by half a dozen hardened and well armed men. Already, a small line of annoyed tourists had formed as the Carabinieri searched each one meticulously before they would let them in the square.

Taking a breath, Michael whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Pull out the badge as we walk by them. Say nothing. Act like a cop. Don’t smile.”

Authoritatively, the two faux Italian Polizias walked past the irritated line of tourists flipping open their wallets to show the armed men who they purported to be. The cadre of Carabinieri pushed aside the tourists and waved them into the square.

Once safely out of earshot Jimmy said, “I can’t believe that worked! What now?”

“
Let’s split up, I’ll take the North side of the Square, you take the South. Keep your eyes open for the guy and try not to look like a spook.”

Walking away from one another, they were split apart by the large obelisk at the center of the Square, “Jimmy, can you hear me?” Michael said quietly into the air.

The radios embedded into their ears were working perfectly, and Jimmy responded, “I read you like you were standing next to me.”

“
Good, be careful. You’ve got a bunch of Vatican Police coming up on your six.”

Jimmy stopped talking and started walking toward the center of the ellipse shaped Square. He neared the stone obelisk as if admiring it. He saw at the base of the red, nearly pink, granite obelisk – really a solar symbol – inscriptions written by Cardinal Silvio Antoniani and pretended to read them. The Vatican Police strolled by him not paying the
tourist
a second thought. They were instructed to look for a large Persian man, each having been given a copy of the photo of the assassin.

Chapter Fifty-Two

The Parish Church of St. Anne

The Vatican

Hours had passed and the assassin was growing anxious as the time neared. His prayers had flowed through him diligently and now it was the moment to have them answered. He rose from the floor. His knees ached from being pressed for so long into the cold marble, but he didn’t care; his pain was of no consequence.

Stepping out of the side chapel and into the main hall of the Church, he slowly stared at the circular nature of the interior. With futility, the Baroque style façade loudly attempted to blend in with the dome above and paneling over the door. It was a reminder to him of how these people attempted to dominate their dominion in every possible fashion.

He felt a twinge of disgust.

On top of the table at the front of the Church, an ornate golden cross stood; looking at it he spat on it, and then knocked it over.

Outside of the Church, the guard that the priest had promised was nowhere in sight. Pulling the hood of his jacket over his newly shaved head, the assassin made his way to the Square.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Papal Apartment

Apostolic Palace

Pope Leo XIV sat with Monsignor Geoffrey Hauptmann in the Pope’s apartment; together they were enjoying their lunch; the young priest had hardly touched his food. The Pope’s private chef had prepared a simple and boring meal of unseasoned, broiled chicken breast, steamed carrots and plain corkscrew shaped fusilli. The Pope’s personal doctor had been concerned with the health of Leo’s Papal heart and had ordered him to stay away from the heavy sausages and kraut that Leo so enjoyed.

Geoffrey glanced frequently at the large Roman clock that hung over the upright piano pushed against the wall. It read 12:15. He was anxious and did everything that he could to hide it from the Pontiff.

The Pope looked at his personal assistant and stated, “You seem a bit troubled, Geoffrey.”

“
What makes you say that, Your Holiness?”

“
You haven’t said more than three words during the entire meal, a meal that you have not even touched. I have always looked forward to our conversations, but today your gaze has you somewhere else. What troubles you?”

The young Monsignor exhaled slowly and said, “There have been some horrible occurrences in Rome; nearby. They have had me quite concerned.”

“
Is that so? What sort of occurrences?”

“
I didn’t want to worry you, but there have been some murders, Your Holiness. Colonel Camini informed me of them this morning. He is quite worried and has been included in the investigation with the local authorities.”

The Pope stood in the manner that an old man usually does – slow and deliberate – and placed his hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder before saying, “The crimes of men are difficult to understand. I will pray for the lost souls and for the soul of the killer. Now, help me into my coat, I would like to take my walk now.”

Geoffrey rose; it took all of his efforts to contain his smile, “Yes, Your Holiness; as you wish.”

We are only minutes away
, he thought, barely able to believe it was about to happen. The anticipation was choking.

Chapter Fifty-Four

St. Peter’s Square

The Vatican

Leo walked through the door of his newly refurbished apartment as Geoffrey held it open for him. Colonel Camini and Detective Dante were on the other side flanked by a quite capable looking contingent of the Pope’s security. When they saw the Pope, the Colonel’s chin immediately fell to his chest in reverence.

“
Good afternoon, Your Holiness, I understand that you plan to take your walk into St. Peter’s Square now?”

“
Yes, Colonel, I do.”

“
Your Holiness, I would respectfully ask that you not do so today. There are some security concerns that I am dealing with at the moment. It would be safer for you to stay inside until they are settled.”

“
Colonel, Monsignor Hauptmann has informed me of the troubles in Rome, but they are not to be a concern of the Vatican. It is up to the Polizia to manage Roman affairs, not the Swiss Guard.”

“
But, Your Holiness, the man that has committed these crimes is dangerous; I have reason to believe that you are in danger!”

The ancient man stepped closer to Colonel Camini and looked up at the towering officer and spoke in his typical soft voice, “Colonel, I will not be a prisoner in my home. Those days for the Pope ended over seventy years ago. I will not sit behind these walls and cower in fear. If this man poses a danger inside the boundaries of our nation, I trust you and your men will do your best to protect me. God has already determined my fate, as he has yours; I leave it in his hands. Please excuse me, Colonel: these old legs need some exercise and the people their Pope.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

St. Peter’s Square

The Vatican

The assassin strolled slowly through the crowd and watched with the disciplined eyes of a trained predator; patiently he waited for the Pope to appear. The Vatican Police were everywhere, uniformed and in street clothes. The assassin squinted and slowly reconnoitered the square; they were easy to spot regardless of their dress.