“But they have yet to be discovered.”
“That’s correct.”
“So, the threat continues to remain at a high level.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Is it possible that the man transporting this device may have already breached the city perimeter before the Square was shut down?”
“That’s a possibility—yes,” said Father Auciello. “But Vatican Security has found nothing to indicate a threat.”
“That doesn’t mean that one does not exist,” the pontiff returned. “The man is in Rome, yet he remains elusive, which tells me that this man is cunning enough to strike at a time of opportunity.” Then the pontiff turned his attention to Kimball Hayden. “Your team of Vatican Knights will work hand in hand with Vatican Security,” he told him, “and will comb all areas and every dark recess. Miss nothing.”
“You left me with a small team to work with,” Kimball responded. “Only three, including myself.”
“A Vatican Knight—it is said—does the work of five men. Now you have fifteen.” The pontiff delivered this with a snap to his tone. “It is your duty,” he added, “to protect the sovereignty of the church at all costs.”
“I know my duties.”
“Then don’t question my reasons for dispatching the Vatican Knights to protect our interests across the globe for which my doing so leaves your numbers thin. I know this is what you meant by your remark of having a small crew to work with. I have reasons behind what I do. You need to remember that and question nothing.”
The tension in the chamber was syrupy thick with the animosity between them causing such discomfort to the priests that they sat unmoving with the lines of their vision cast to the floor.
“Do you understand me?” the pontiff challenged Kimball.
The Vatican Knight nodded. “I do.”
“A man runs loose in the city of Rome carrying a suitcase that has a nuclear yield equal to one kiloton, which I’m told can level Vatican City and areas beyond the state’s borders. I will not cower and vacate the throne that has been entrusted to me by God. And as God as my witness, you, Kimball Hayden, will serve God through me.”
The muscles in the back of Kimball’s jaws began to work as he fought for control.
“Is that understood?”
Kimball nodded.
“I can’t hear you,” the pontiff stated sharply.
“Yes. I understand.”
The pontiff nodded; the man satisfied with his show of power.
“Continue to work with the authorities,” the pope directed at the co-directors. “Shore up the defenses of the city. Investigate all corners, examine all security footage, use everything at your disposal to determine if this man has entered Vatican City.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.” This came from Father Essex.
“May God be with you.” The pontiff stood and extended his arm toward the priests, who accepted his hand and kissed the Fisherman’s Ring. When he extended his hand towards Kimball in invitation, the Vatican Knight followed through by ritualistically kissing the pontiff’s ring.
After they left the chamber, Fathers Auciello and Essex remained quiet. It was obvious that the pope had pushed Kimball to the edge. The best thing, they realized, was to let Kimball stew long enough to burn away his anger.
Going in separate directions after Kimball was informed by Father Auciello of Shari’s phone call, the Vatican Knight continued to simmer. The pope was purposely pushing his buttons. Whether it was to force him to surrender his position as a Vatican Knight so that Pope Clement XV could take absolute charge of his team, or maybe it was something as simple as the hatred between them being too volatile for either man to find common ground. Either way, Kimball’s orders had been delivered and duly accepted.
With darkness hanging over Vatican City like the Sword of Damocles, Kimball Hayden, as a Vatican Knight, remained firm in his conviction to abide by the principle to protect the sovereignty of the church, even as Pope Clement XV ruled from the shadows.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Washington, D.C.
The Man from Munich was standing along Pennsylvania Avenue and noted the high volume of manpower that surrounded the White House as they set up a perimeter. Streets had been cordoned off. And Marine One, the president’s helicopter, was on the launchpad with its rotors in full swing, meaning that the president was about to be whisked off to an unknown location.
The Man from Munich was instantly on his burner to the Bangladeshi.
After two rings, the Bangladeshi picked up. “Yes.”
“I’m at the target site,” the Man from Munich responded. “Security’s all over the place and the president’s chopper is about to liftoff.”
There was a lapse of silence on the other end, and then an obvious sigh. “The mission’s been compromised,” the Bangladeshi finally said. “The Vatican, too, has closed its borders for unspecified reasons. My guess is that the Man from Paris quickly professed our cause.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“How far away is the package from the primary site?”
“Almost two miles.”
“Perhaps too far to yield the results we’re looking for,” said the Bangladeshi. And then: “Be careful and keep your head low. If we’ve been compromised, which is most likely, certain authorities will be looking for you through the CCTV cameras with the aid of facial recognition. Return to your station, retrieve the package, and place it within a range no less than a quarter of a mile from the primary target.”
“That might be difficult,” stated the Man from Munich. “It appears that security is expanding their network from the central point of the White House.”
“Do what you’ve been paid to do. Place the package within the range that I have specified from the primary target and set the timer for three minutes.”
“Three minutes?”
“We’ve no choice. The more time they have to search the grid, it gives us less time to achieve the means. Don’t call me. In fact, destroy the phone. And immediately. This needs to be done within the
