The Hammer of God

44

C ardinal Polletto, sore from the tussle with Father Tolbert, rubbed the small of his back as he made his way out of Bracciano Castle’s large, high-ceiling bedroom, where he’d been recuperating for the past few days. He walked down to the library, Pope’s Hall, where he was greeted by low-level members of The Order, who avoided eye contact with him.

He could hear and feel their whispers as he eased by. He let Father Tolbert get away.

The cardinal covered for Father Tolbert at the Vatican Archives, but soon, Cardinal Maximilian or others at the Vatican would become suspicious and start asking questions. Attention he did not need. But it wasn’t the Vatican that worried him; his real concern came from The Order. He would be severely dealt with if Father Tolbert wasn’t found.

The priest was a very important part of the equation, and the ritual could not take place without him.

Two doors down from his bedroom, Father Sin, shot, but not dead, recuperated. Thankfully, the bullets hit the meaty parts of his right shoulder and left thigh, and passed in and out without breaking any bones. Unfortunately, it took over an hour to find him, and by then, he’d lost consciousness, and a lot of blood. The doctor who examined him, faithful to The Order, said the large, muscular priest would soon be up and around with sufficient bed rest. Cardinal Polletto practically had to threaten Father Sin to keep him in bed, to prevent him from going out to search for Father Tolbert.

Bishop Giordano had ordered their people to get rid of the old man’s body they found next to a crashed car. Father Sin told them that the old man gave Father Tolbert a ride, and refused to pull over. Both cars and the body were weighted down and submerged in the middle of the lake.

By the time anyone found them, it would be too late.

Inside Pope’s Hall, Cardinal Polletto sat down behind a large, dark wooden desk and waited for his guests to arrive. He ordered two hirelings to bring a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine. They came back with the ice water and a bottle of Chateau Margaux, one of his favorites.

He uncorked the bottle himself, a special pleasure he took delight in like a child unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. He closed his eyes and sniffed the cork, the richness of the dark grape pleasantly assaulting his senses. He waved off everyone in the room and poured himself a glass. He didn’t taste it right away as most did; the cork had told him everything. If the aroma was bad, so was the bottle, and he’d never let it touch his mouth.

Not long after he’d finished his first glass, Bishop Giordano entered with his guests, Rinaldo and Dianora.

“Hello, my friends,” said the cardinal, walking around and giving them both big hugs.

Bishop Giordano backed out of the room as Rinaldo and Dianora sat down in front of the desk. Cardinal Polletto poured them both a glass of wine without asking, knowing they’d appreciate the finely aged grape.

Rinaldo owned several vineyards in Italy, and as with most of her father’s ventures, Dianora was closely involved, and as much an expert as the two of them.

“I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” said the cardinal, taking his seat.

“For you, it’s not a problem,” said Rinaldo, his nose hovering above the wine goblet. “I hope the child is still secure.”

“Yes, your men have done a great job guarding him. I appreciate your kindness,” said the cardinal.

“It’s the least we could do for one of father’s oldest friends,” said Dianora.

Cardinal Polletto let his eyes discretely wash over Rinaldo’s buxom daughter. She reminded him of Sophia Loren in her younger days, and the cardinal wondered what his friend of fifty years would think if he knew he had already tasted her sweet nectar.

“Thank you for the compliment,” he told her. “But I have another assignment for you. Several, in fact, that require the utmost discretion.” Rinaldo’s face remained stoic. Dianora smiled.

“One of our priests, Father Charles Tolbert, is missing and must be located quickly.” He handed pictures of the priest to each of them. “He may be injured, so I suggest you start at the hospitals and clinics.” Rinaldo pulled a set of wire-rim glasses from his inside jacket pocket and examined the photo. Dianora barely gave hers a glance and slid it inside her bra.

“And your second problem?” asked Rinaldo, his eyes still glued to the photo.

Cardinal Polletto stood, walked over to the door, checked the hallway, then closed and locked it shut. He resumed his seat. “The next issue at hand is quite a bit more sensitive, but very profitable.” Rinaldo raised his head and gave a sinister smile. “Who do you want us to kill?”

Cardinal Polletto liked Rinaldo. The old man stayed a few moves ahead of the game, and had never let him down.

“His name’s Cardinal James Francis Maximilian.”

“Il Negro?” asked Rinaldo, stroking his chin. “He’s one of the Holy Father’s favorites. The Vatican will use all of its resources to find the killer.”

“Leave the Vatican to me. I understand there’s going to be a change soon, so name your price.”

The old man’s eyes darkened, his brow furrowed. “Five hundred thousand to find Father Tolbert, two million to eliminate the cardinal,” he said.

The price was more than Cardinal Polletto wanted to pay, but money was no object. Besides, he knew the risk Rinaldo would be taking. His entire operation would be eliminated if they were caught.

“Done,” the cardinal finally said. “If you need any of my people, they’re at your command.”

“How soon does this need to take place?” asked Dianora.

“I need Father Tolbert right away, today if possible. Once we have him, the other problem should be dealt with immediately. If possible, make it look like an accident.”

Rinaldo nodded. “If we can, we will. But to kill such a man, we may have to take what we can get.”

Cardinal Polletto understood. “I trust your judgment as always.” Dianora leaned forward on the desk, her chest resting on the polished wood. “Then there’s only the matter of payment. One million now, wired to an account in the Isle of Man, the rest after we deliver.” Cardinal Polletto thumped the table, staring at them both, but he didn’t have time to negotiate. “Done. Let’s get on with it.” The three worked out several final details. When they finished, Cardinal Polletto walked them to their car, bid them both well, then headed for the area where the ritual would take place.

Outside, in the mid-morning sky, a splattering of billowy cotton ball clouds floated north with the strong wind. Cardinal Polletto, his crimson vestment flapping with each gust, pushed through to the north side of the castle, where construction of a small three level arena, flanked by stadium lighting, was nearly complete. The seating could comfortably hold the carefully chosen audience of just over a thousand supporters and members of The Order. While the second level, down seven stairs, would stage the ritual and seat The Order’s counsel.

On the beach, guard posts had been set up to keep any nosey wanderers from walking up on the ritual, a precaution supported by two teams of Rinaldo’s machine gun toting men spread out in the woods.

Cardinal Polletto wasn’t worried about the area west of the castle, because the lake stretched more than two miles to Trevignano.

The final level was a short step-down to a large wooden deck where the twenty-five children would be herded, along with Samuel and his two brothers. Just the thought sent Cardinal Polletto’s heart fluttering.

The cardinal moved past the stadium seating and stepped down to the ritual stage. He looked out over the water and took in the spectacular scene. He imagined the triumph he’d feel when the birth of the world’s most powerful figure since Christ, was acknowledged by his hand and ratified by the high-counsel of The Order. Cardinal Polletto would then be granted the responsibility of raising their newfound leader from pupil to world leader, and his place in history would be sealed forever.

Cardinal Polletto played the ritual over in his head. First, he’d lead a procession of followers and participants from the castle, in-between the standing crowd and down the short flight of stairs to the stage. Father Tolbert would be tied to a wide plank of wood; the twenty-five children tied up and gagged. Samuel, Eduardo and Felipe would each be brought out inside three black coffins, and lifted out onto the stage. Cardinal Polletto would then perform a Black Mass in the name of their father.

After which, Father Tolbert would be presented to the audience as The Vessel, from whom the seed of The Order’s new prince sprang forth. The priest’s blood would then be drained from his body until his death, his purpose fulfilled.

The final step of the ritual would, for Cardinal Polletto, be the most exciting. He’d step down to the final platform and bless each child, fifteen male, ten female, Samuel, and his two brothers. The cardinal would ask Asmodeus to reveal to them The One foretold in The Book of Revelation, then pull the lever which opens up a trap door, and all of the children would be plunged into the lake. The survivors would be pulled to shore. Those who managed to live out of the twenty-five would be raised as servants to the world’s new lord. If Samuel lived, he would be raised as ruler of the world, raised at the Vatican, under Cardinal Polletto’s tutelage.

The wind picked up a sharp chill, but the cardinal barely noticed. In a week’s time he would be the Holy Father of the Roman Catholic Church, and the world would never be the same.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, snapping him out of the gratifying trance. It was Bishop Giordano. He stood there, mouth agape.

“Yes?” asked Cardinal Polletto.

“Cardinal, we’ve just received word from Father Ortega. He reports that Robert Veil and his partner just left Alison Napier’s hotel. They know where we’re keeping Samuel, and are going to try and rescue the child.”

Cardinal Polletto was mildly impressed. “That can be handled. Tell Father Ortega to await my instructions.”

“Yes, Cardinal, but there’s more,” said Bishop. Cardinal Polletto stared. His eyes gave the nervous bishop permission to continue. The bishop’s hand quivered. “We’ve heard from The Black Pope. He’s on his way to Bracciano. He’ll be here any moment.” Cardinal Polletto’s body stiffened. The Black Pope, the man who The Holy Father himself confessed his sins to, led a group more powerful than The Order of Asmodeus, and was head of The Order’s counsel. Throughout history, the Black Pope had a hand in some of the world’s most earth shattering events, giving final permission to bomb Hiroshima, and for President John F. Kennedy to be assassinated.

Cardinal Polletto took a deep breath to steady himself, placed a hand on Bishop Giordano’s shoulder, then headed for the castle.