When it cleared the road and was out of sight, the cardinal fell to his knees and wept, as the old man’s description of his punishment and death if he failed rang in his ears and tortured his soul. The cardinal pounded the ground with both fists and clawed the earth until his fingers bled.
“Cardinal!” Bishop Giordano yelled. He grabbed the cardinal and helped him to his feet.
“We must not fail,” cried Cardinal Polletto, weeping. He shook loose from the bishop. The Black Pope knew everything, Samuel’s escape, the problems with Father Tolbert and Robert Veil.
Cardinal Polletto decided to get back in touch with Rinaldo and Dianora, and double their fee. He wanted Cardinal Maximilian, Robert Veil and Nikki Thorne dealt with immediately. He turned to Bishop Giordano.
“Call Father Ortega, I need him back here as soon as possible. Then contact Sister Bravo,” said Cardinal Polletto.
“Yes, Cardinal.”
“And here’s what I want her to do with Samuel and the other children.”
46
C ool air breezed in through Astura Torre’s castle window. Samuel, tired of staring out at the sea, no matter how beautiful it looked, laid back on his cot and watched bundles of clouds float by the window, teasing him with their freedom. Three days had passed since the last time he’d been allowed outside, with no explanation. He complained to Father Murphy every time the priest came in to check on him or bring food, but was ignored.
Samuel sat up and finished a lukewarm, half-full glass of orange juice, leftover from breakfast. His thoughts turned toward Sister Bravo.
Over the past three days, he hadn’t seen or heard from her, and although he still considered her his enemy, not having her around made him nervous. It was a strange feeling. She was one of his captures, and had taken him from the only life he knew, but he missed her presence and had grown to depend on her for comfort and security. She made him feel safe when she was around.
He had almost asked Father Murphy of her whereabouts, but didn’t utter a word, not wanting to show concern. But the longer she stayed away, the more fearful and alone he felt.
Lunch turned into dinner, and dinner to night. Samuel paced the room and eventually hung out of the window looking down at the now moonlit water again. The longer he looked, the closer the water seemed.
He considered jumping, and pulled himself up further to make sure of the fit. He stared down at the wet, rippling water, and knew he’d never survive the jump, let alone swim away afterwards.
Multiple footsteps pounded the concrete stairs, slowly coming his way. Samuel jumped down, ran to the bed and sat against the wall, struggling to control his breathing, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirt.
The door creaked open. Father Murphy backed inside, carrying the end of a large, brown leather traveling trunk. One of the goons who guarded him outside handled the other end. The other machine gun toting thugs carried in two more trunks and stood them upright. Everyone left the room without giving Samuel so much as a glance, except Father Murphy, who smiled on his way out and left the door wide open.
Sister Bravo walked inside. Samuel felt a surge of relief and almost ran to her, but resisted. Sister Bravo’s face said she’d read his mind, but she too kept her composure.
Samuel stood. “I haven’t been allowed outside for three days,” he said, mustering up his anger. “You promised.” Sister Bravo walked over and gently stroked his hair. “I’m sorry, my child, but it couldn’t be helped.”
Samuel looked up at her deceptive, angelic face. “I’m going crazy in here. It’s not fair,” he said.
The nun kissed his forehead then walked over to the first trunk. She unlocked the door and pulled it open. Samuel took a step forward in disbelief. A child, his age, with his face, stepped out of the trunk. Sister Bravo opened the next trunk, and another twin, this one with dark hair, stared back at him.
Samuel fell back against the bed and landed on his behind. “What?” The two boys looked as confused as Samuel. They all looked up at Sister Bravo, bewildered.
“Samuel, this is Felipe and Eduardo. They’re your brothers. Boys, this is Samuel,” she said in French, then Italian.
Each boy gave a half-hearted wave, their faces pallets of fear and confusion, echoing Samuel’s emotions. Sister Bravo herded the boys back into the trunks, then opened the third, which was empty.
“It’s time to leave the castle,” she said, firm and serious. “Get inside.”
Ten minutes later, Samuel heard footsteps again, and his trunk lifted into the air. They carried him down the stairs and outside, then loaded him on a truck or in a van, he couldn’t tell. He heard the other two trunks being loaded next to him. Doors slammed shut, the engine started and they drove away. They stopped abruptly, then kept going.
A few seconds later, gunshots rang out and he was tossed back and forth against the walls of the trunk. The engine growled louder and Samuel bounced up and down, hitting his head. There was more gunfire, then silence. Samuel thought he heard screaming in the distance, as the wind whistled his name. Samuel!
47
I n pitch-black darkness, Robert and Thorne silently maneuvered the rubber watercraft across the lake toward Astura Torre castle with ease.
The lightly clouded sky profiled a blanket of bright stars and bright moon, unimpeded by dull city lights as in Chicago or New York. Earlier, Thorne had asked to be dropped in the city to talk to one of her sources, so she could secure everything they needed. Father Kong and the others were less suspicious than they would’ve been if it had been Robert stepping out instead of her. She had secured all the equipment they needed to rescue Samuel. Two fifty foot sets of strong rope with grappling hooks, mountain climbing hooks and spikes, Mac-10 machine guns fitted with silencers, (they were out of 9mm’s and. 45’s), and night-vision goggles.
Their plan, deceptively simple on paper, required a strong bit of luck.
They had launched the raft a little more than a mile down the coastline from the castle, out in the lake about a mile and a half, where they wouldn’t be seen. Thorne guided the boat slowly, and a half-mile away, Robert saw the shadowy, barely-lit castle. Although the engine was near silent, Robert signaled for Thorne to cut the motor and they rowed the last quarter mile. As they dug their oars into the lake, Robert wondered what Sister Isabella and the others would think when they discovered that they were gone.
Robert activated his night-vision goggles and scanned the coastline as they inched closer. Nothing. They reached the wall under the window where Robert had spotted what he was sure was Samuel’s flaming signal.
He turned off the goggles and grabbed the rope and grappling hook.
Thorne followed his lead. Robert threw his first, caught the top of the wall, tested the rope, and started to climb, the machine gun swinging from his shoulder. A few seconds later, Thorne’s hook found its mark and she pulled herself up right behind him. The closer they got to the top, the harder Robert’s heart pounded. One peek down by one of The Order’s people and they’d be finished before they got started.
They reached the top of the wall simultaneously and unhooked themselves. Robert checked around the corner to the left, Thorne, the right, and gave each other the all clear. Up above about fifteen feet, the window emitted a dim light, but no sounds or voices. The wall, a maze of stony cracks and crevices, reminded Robert of the mountains he and Thorne climbed back in the States, only a bit more slippery.
“We’ll go up together,” Robert whispered. “When we reach the window, I’ll head inside first.”
Thorne nodded in agreement, then readied her weapons, the Mac-10, and her favorite, a Mosberg pistol grip pump shotgun.
They spread out to give each other room and started to climb. A few feet from the window, Robert heard faint voices and stopped, Thorne following suit. If Samuel’s inside, he’s not alone. They waited. Robert heard bumping and knocking, minutes later, silence fell, and they continued up the wall.
At the window, Robert pulled himself up on the ledge and peeked inside. The bedroom was empty, the door
