Calls were immediately made to the FBI’s Counterterrorist Division (the CTD), and with the primary principals of Vatican Intelligence, that being Fathers Essex and Auciello, to share pertinent data between the respective nations.
In the United States, the CTD downloaded the Mossad’s communique to establish a link with the geospatial satellites to triangulate the outgoing and incoming calls between the burners. The outgoing call had come from Rome, whereas the receiving line was three miles outside of Washington, D.C. Though depicting the precise location of the calls was not an exact science, both agencies were able to home in on locations to within a quarter of a mile of the sources, both receiving and transmitting.
In Rome, the outgoing source was confirmed to be inside a 450-yard circumference, meaning that the Bangladeshi was operating from within a range that was nearly 1.4 million square feet, which was a lot of terrain. In Washington, D.C., that range had been limited to a 300-yard circumference, or 636,000 square feet of area.
The second process was to assign ownership to the burners. According to Pierre Labron, the Bangladeshi was the key operator who moved his technicians into place. And a person who went by the particular callsign the ‘Man from Munich,’ was no stranger to either agency. The Man from Munich was Maxwell Gruber, a suspected terrorist who was believed to be responsible for a recent bombing in Lyon, France, as well as other parts of western Europe. He was a mercenary who transported and planted explosive devices for nothing less than six-figures per operation, meaning that he only worked for high-end controllers with deep financial pockets. How he was able to get by the FBI watchlist and into the United States undetected was a question that the FBI and the NSA would have to deal with later in order to shore up the national borders.
After downloading current images of the Bangladeshi and the Man from Munich into their respective facial recognition software programs (FRP), CCTV cameras began to canvas the corresponding areas. Within minutes, onscreen images came and went as the FRP system dotted the landmarks on numerous faces to measure their features. Images flashed as glimpses on the monitors, only to be summarily dismissed.
But within the hour and with a confirmed hit of 100%, the Man from Munich was spotted along Pennsylvania Avenue and appeared to be surveying the White House.
In Rome, however, the Bangladeshi had yet to be discovered.
And the clock was ticking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Rome, Italy
The Nocturnal Saints, along with the woman who commanded with absolute power, were inside a small room going over the details of Shari Cohen’s abduction and the subsequent undertaking that would be Kimball Hayden’s downfall.
“Again!” the woman said in her gravelly voice. She had gone over the details repeatedly as outlined, and had the team recite the particulars until they had been imbedded to memory. After a while, their tones became dry and flat and monotonous, a collective drone.
“Again!”
Chance Stallworth, Shonn McKinley, Carl Mannix and Dave Bienemy continued to narrate what the woman had listed on paper as the mission protocols.
“Again!”
The plan was once again repeated in chorus from a seemingly bored choir.
“Again!”
This back and forth went on for exactly one hour, and not one second too soon or too late, with the lesson itself that of perfect timing, which meant everything.
After everyone checked their weapons and donned their Kevlar masks that appeared like human skulls, outside of the emerald-green lenses for eyes and a circular mouthpiece, each operator powered up their bony-looking façades to operational standards. After the whirring of the masks upcycling along with the NVG lenses first dilating and then contracting like human irises, each member tried his mouthpiece which proffered a metallic, yet articulate, sound.
Everything appeared to work smoothly, at least on paper. But the woman knew that battles were not fought on paper but on the battlefield. And with Kimball Hayden as the focal point of the mission, this one man alone, she considered, would not be an easy opponent. Animals that are often driven by volcanic rage were often the most dangerous and the most violent, especially when they were pushed into a corner with the only way forward was through the battle line.
As the Nocturnal Saints went over the plans without the woman’s additional input, she allowed them to converse about the finest points and left the room. In a separate area, though she could still hear their muffled voices behind closed doors, Antle decided that she wanted to be alone.
As she sat within the shadows thinking, and with her eyes hypnotically riveted to a point on the far wall, her mind envisioned with vivid clarity the images of her only confrontation with Kimball Hayden and his team of Vatican Knights. They were elite and a team unlike any other. And as much as she wanted to believe in her team, no matter how many times she tried to make herself believe that Kimball was one man against four and that he bled like other men, she could not deny the underlying sensation that her team may not be good enough.
Using the woman as enticement did not sit well with her. The pontiff clearly disagreed and saw it as a measure that would bring the Vatican Knight to his knees in defeat, as he begged for the life of the woman. But people like Kimball Hayden did not cower before his enemies. He struck them down. So, did the pontiff really believe that Kimball Hayden would enter the picture without a backup plan? Maybe, she thought. But in all likelihood, Kimball Hayden would go into the situation like the beast that he was—a creature who had been spawned from the flames of the underworld and one who would fight with the powers of Legion.
Antle sighed.
As much as she wanted to believe in her team and appeal to the good side of the pope, she
