The Hammer of God

50

F ather Tolbert, hands in his pockets, blended in with the crowd in front of the hospital, listening carefully for any bit of useful information.

He gathered as much gossip as he dared, realizing he could be recognized at anytime, and eased away from the bustling press, curious onlookers, and fellow clergy. He crossed the street to where he could watch from a safe inconspicuous distance, backed into a small space between two buildings, and waited.

Almost a week had passed since he last saw Robert Veil and his partner at The Grand Hotel de Minerve, where he’d learned that Alison Napier was staying. The priest wondered how she fit into Cardinal Polletto’s hands, and if she knew that her son, Samuel, was cloned.

Father Tolbert liked Alison. She had always been nice to him, respectful.

He wondered what she’d think when she learned he was Samuel’s biological father, and a monster.

Father Tolbert had made sure he stayed out of sight, holing up in small, non-descript flophouse hotels in old Rome, where people saw everything, but minded their own business. The priest stayed off the streets during the day, and only went out for food and hair coloring at night. He frequented offbeat coffee shops and bars, where patrons shared the discreet talk of the town, but he heard nothing that would help his cause.

He was especially careful to suppress the sickness still burning in his soul, and avoided even eye contact with children who passed his way.

The hunger called to him daily, but his new purpose, the destruction of The Order of Asmodeus, enabled him to keep control for the moment.

This morning, while sipping an espresso at a coffee shop not far from his hotel, Father Tolbert overheard the owner speak of the attack on Cardinal Maximilian, a man he feared, but who had always been kind to him. He couldn’t account for his unease when it came to the cardinal, but his soul searching eyes seemed to pierce right through him, and Father Tolbert felt like the man could see his very soul.

He ran right over to the hospital, hoping that the incident would cause Samuel’s godfather to show. He had no reason to suspect a connection, but it was all he had to go on at the time. Father Tolbert was well aware of Cardinal Polletto’s hatred for Cardinal Maximilian, which made him wonder if the attack was more than a simple robbery attempt, as many were calling it, or something more. An assassination.

More press, priests, nuns, and catholic faithful, gathered in front of the hospital. Father Tolbert carefully examined each new face, hoping, praying for a break. Then, two dusty, dark blue sedans stopped in front of the hospital. After a few minutes, the cars turned around and parked across the street, not far from where Father Tolbert was hiding. He backed up into the darkness, then slowly eased forward.

Sitting in the passenger seat of the first car was a man who looked like Robert Veil, but he wasn’t sure. He slid back, then leaned forward again. In the backseat was a black woman, American, with an unforgettable face. It’s them! Father Tolbert considered rushing over and knocking on the window, but didn’t because there were others in the car.

After about two minutes, both cars pulled away and headed for the rear of the hospital. He quickly walked across the street and went to the back of the building on the opposite side, head low, eyes straight. When he reached the rear parking lot, he didn’t look around, but kept moving, careful not to walk too fast. He stopped well out of the sight of the two sedans, now parked at the back entrance. He stooped low behind a tan Volvo and watched Robert Veil, his partner, an Asian priest he didn’t recognize, and a woman he now recognized as Sister Isabella, who he knew well, rush inside the hospital.

Father Tolbert leaned back against the car behind him, keeping the back door and the two cars still parked there, in sight. The remaining men still left in the cars stepped out to smoke cigarettes, their weapons well in sight. They didn’t look like clergy, but after what Father Tolbert had seen over the last month, he was ready to believe anything.

A light rain fell. The priest closed his eyes and let the mist caress his face. Almost and hour passed before Robert Veil and the others exited the hospital. Veil’s partner, the black woman, snapped her head in Father Tolbert’s direction, sending him to the wet asphalt. He eased his head up and watched Robert and Thorne hide weapons under their jackets and signal one of the waiting cabs.

The Asian priest and Sister Isabella jumped in separate cars and sped away. Father Tolbert quickly ran to one of the waiting taxis as Robert and Thorne pulled away.

“Follow them,” Father Tolbert ordered the driver, slamming the door, handing him a fifty-dollar bill. “And don’t let them get away.”