But much more than this were his customer’s eyes that got Alonzo’s attention. Luca’s eyes looked completely soulless and dead. He cynically thought to himself, ‘Unless this guy is going to the Vatican to be delivered of demons—he couldn’t be up to much good.’
Growing increasingly concerned, as he headed down the main drag that led to Vatican City, Alonzo tried a different approach, asking, “So what do you think of the new Pope?” Luca becoming annoyed with having to answer questions, let his subconscious mind completely slip as he muttered, “Who cares… They’re all going to die anyway.”
This got the cabbie’s attention as he hissed, “What?”
Luca, who’s chemically altered brain was long past psychosis, found himself in the midst of an uncontrollable free flow of thought as he continued, “The Pope, the cardinals, all of them—they’re all going to die...”
Alonzo not sure what he was dealing with, was hoping that the man was speaking metaphorically as he anxiously muttered, “We’re all going to die someday sure.”
Luca just couldn’t help himself, as he nonchalantly revealed, “But they’re going to die today—I’m going to make sure of that.”
Alonzo a devout Catholic himself, couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t know if the looney toon in the back seat was joking or serious, but he knew he couldn’t take any chances.
At the next signal he made a U-turn and turned the cab right around. Luca startled out of his stupor, shouted, “Hey! Where are you going? The Vatican is the other way!”
The Cabbie knowing now that he was dealing with a very deranged man, informed him, “That’s alright son, I’m going to take you to a nice hospital in Rome where they can take care of you.” Setting his car’s GPS to Rome, he let his car’s AI drive them back in the thick of the ancient Roman capital.
Luca realizing that his big mouth had ruined the plans, practically wailed in despair, “Please! I don’t need anyone to take care of me! I don’t need any help! I just need to go to the Vatican!”
Alonzo felt sorry for the disheveled young man, but he wasn’t about to chauffer someone with murderous intentions, threatening the Pope—and drop him off at the Vatican’s doorstep. He was neither that callous, nor that idiotic.
His car fortunately was built as strong as police cruiser and no matter how much he banged on the glass partition separating him from the backseat, Luca couldn’t do any damage. Alonzo had also locked all the doors to be sure the maniac couldn’t get out until he could get him to the hospital psych ward he was driving to.
Luca realizing that he was essentially trapped, grew increasingly desperate. He knew that if he didn’t do something soon, the whole plan would come to naught. He would most likely be arrested, and either locked up in prison or an insane asylum. And as his family starved, he would be a failure once again.
So it was, that Luca made his decision. And right there in a busy intersection in Rome, while the cab was stopped at a red light, he pressed down on the detonation switch that he had carelessly shoved in his front pocket. A split second later the bombs wrapped around Luca’s chest exploded with fury—flames searing through his skin and melting the upholstery in the back of the cab.
But this was nothing, because in the next second after the blast, a tongue of fire made contact with the fuel tank of the vehicle, essentially turning the entire car into a giant bomb and in a tremendous blast that would shake all of the immediate downtown area, the entire cab went up in flames.
Both Luca and Alonzo were dead at this point, yet the misery was only beginning because the vials of Ebola had been shattered and the viruses they contained were now sent aloft on the flames and plumes of smoke ready to enter into the lungs of any curious passerby.
Luca hoped that his dark deed would help him get his wife one last payday. But in reality, there was no check. It was all a lie from the beginning. He had trusted the dishonorable to be honorable and all he had to show for it was death and destruction on a massive scale.
12
Is it All Just a Coincidence?
JUST A FEW HOURS LATER AT AN IRISH PUB IN BALTIMORE.
Mason was seated at the bar waiting for Luke Simon to arrive. Luke had informed him that he had some valuable new intel and possibly a new assignment for Onyx. The bartender catching Mason’s gaze asked him, “What would you like to drink my friend?”
The very suggestion made Mason’s stomach seize up. He was still recovering from the drinking binge of the day before, and found himself in no shape to drink any further, as he sputtered, “Uh—do you guys have Coca-Cola?”
Prompting the bartender to laugh, “Coke? Uh, yeah sure—sure thing.”
Mason felt a bit emasculated for ordering such a soft drink, but he knew his limits, and as he got older, his hangovers only got worse. As such, he knew that he had reached the point to where his drinking threshold had been reached.
It was just as the bartender handed Mason a glass filled with the syrupy soda, he heard Luke’s voice behind him, greeting him, “Hey Mace—thanks for waiting for me.”
Luke then sat down next to Mason and began his debriefing routine. Scrolling through his phone, he informed him, “Okay, so far it looks like all of our immediate loose ends have been tied.”
Mason then cut in, “Well—what about that Nelson guy? I know Marshal Oliver is still on my case for not playing nice with civilians.”
Luke nodded, “Yeah—but that’s all a bunch of hot air he’s blowing—don’t worry about it.”
Mason wasn’t going to let it go however, as he repeated, “So… what about Nelson? Raina thinks the guy is liable to file a complaint against me.”
Luke shook his head, “I wouldn’t worry about
