She looked at the wall clock. Time appeared to be moving along with indescribable slowness with a single second seeming as long as three or four.
. . . tick . . .
. . . tick . . .
. . . tick . . .
Only time will tell, she thought, as to who will win the war from the trenches. The demon in priest’s clothing? Or will it be the God-driven warriors of the Nocturnal Saints?
In the end, as always, there could only be one winner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The American Embassy
Rome, Italy
In a multi-collusion intel universe, Shari Cohen was the professor of counterterrorism who worked alongside the Nucleo Operativo Centrale di Sicurezza, which was Italy’s tactical unit of the state police that dealt with counterterrorism. Though she was not an active player or a field actor, she did perform the essential duties as lead investigator when it came to combating radicalism. Having been notified of a high-end alert regarding a suitcase nuke that may have been smuggled into Rome with Vatican City as the designated target, she was in communication with first the Mossad, and secondly, with Fathers Essex and Auciello of Vatican Intelligence. At the moment, she was in conversation with Fathers Essex and Auciello.
Sitting before her monitor with Fathers Essex and Auciello on a split-screen, Shari was communicating with the Jesuits using an encrypted network that was surrounded by a ton of firewalls created to block data packets based on the program’s set of security rules.
“The Vatican Knights have had a run in with the Bangladeshi before,” stated Father Auciello. “And it has come to our understanding that you personally met the man when he was under the direction of Abesh Faruk.”
Shari nodded. She had met the Bangladeshi before, a man who rarely spoke. But he always performed what was asked of him whenever Abesh Faruk raised a hand or snapped his fingers, the Bangladeshi responding to his beckoning as though he did not have a will of his own. “I knew his background and that he possessed military sophistication,” she told him.
“And your operation trying to get to Faruk,” Auciello began, “you were able to confirm that the three suitcases existed?”
“I did. But I wasn’t able to get Faruk to admit to the whereabouts of the WMDs.”
“Apparently,” said Father Essex, “they were right under his feet. There was a hidden room beneath the floor of his special exhibits inside his estate. And inside that room was a crypt-like container called the Goliath Chamber, which we believe held the Unholy Trinity.” Onscreen, the priest cocked his head and narrowed an eye as he spoke. “As you already know, one of those suitcases, the Antichrist, has been commandeered by the Mossad team, which brings a heightened alert that the Bangladeshi and one other are on the move and perhaps onsite.”
“According to the Mossad’s triangulation, which we’ve already verified, the Bangladeshi is close to Vatican City. As of this moment, I’ve advised the principals of the Polizia di Stato and its Nucleo Operativo Centrale di Sicurezza units, should immediate response be necessary, to canvas the area. Since this is their jurisdiction, I’m not eligible for field duty like I would be in the United Sates.”
“You steer the rudder,” said Father Essex. “I get it.”
“To a degree,” she answered. “But in the end, it’s up to the principals of the Polizia di Stato to make the final call. But right now, what concerns me is that each unit possesses a one-kiloton yield. Even if the nuke goes off in Rome, Vatican City will still feel its effects. More importantly, the collateral damage of the people in Rome would be exceedingly high. I believe that the Bangladeshi, if he finds himself with his back against the wall, will set off the device at a location close enough for the fallout to turn Vatican City into a wasteland for years. It’ll become a dead spot like Chernobyl.”
“That’s what we believe as well,” said Father Auciello. “Problem is, with our state-of-the-art technology, even after we downloaded new images of a person who we believe to be the Bangladeshi, this guy has avoided detection.”
“And that becomes a huge issue,” she responded. “According to the Mossad, the Man from Paris informed them that the devices were to go off in unison at three different locations. Washington, D.C., Tel Aviv and Vatican City. The Tel Aviv unit has been neutralized, whereas two others remain outstanding with the clock ticking. We need to find those people, Father. We need to find the Bangladeshi.”
“As you know, Pope Clement has shut down the city and cordoned it off. The Bangladeshi isn’t stupid. Once he sees this, if he hasn’t already, he’ll know for sure that his mission has been compromised . . . He’ll find a nearby location to set off the False Prophet.”
Shari agreed with a nod. “That’s why the Polizia di Stato are combing the triangulation area, though it’s a process. But we’re trying to narrow the location down to within yards of the origin point.”
“Same here. But we’re not having much luck.”
“Neither are we. But the process is working itself out—door to door, surveillance. And we have the Nucleo Operativo Centrale di Sicurezza onsite to respond accordingly once the Bangladeshi has been located. But I’ll repeat what you just said: He’s not stupid.”
“And time’s running out,” said Father Essex. “The Bangladeshi will keep to his mission, though he’ll change the game plan.”
“And that’s what worries me,” she responded. And then: “If we’re unable to locate the Bangladeshi in time and the nuke goes off . . . what’s Kimball’s position in all of this?”
“The Vatican Knights have been sent away on missions with the exception of Isaiah, Kimball and Nehemiah, a light team. The pontiff will expect Kimball and his unit to bolster support, along with the Swiss Guard and
