The Iscariot Agenda

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

What was left of the Pieces of Eight sat in a small room in the sublevel of the surplus store. The old-time warriors were sitting beneath the feeble glow of a single bulb burning from the ceiling, the men holding counsel in a room whose walls were lined with every model and make of every firearm available for the black market.

Jeff and Stanley sat on one side of the table, Kimball on the other.

For the good part of an hour Kimball explained his reason for absconding from service and from the Pieces of Eight. He then went into detail of his solo mission to Iraq, the killing of the shepherd boys, and his subsequent epiphany. And then he discussed how he was given a chance of salvation through the Church. What he neglected to inform them of, however, was his lead role as the Master commando of the Vatican Knights.

“Dude, you didn’t even know the words to ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ back then,” said Jeff. “You know the words now?”

Actually, he didn’t. He was just glad that Jeff proposed the question as rhetorical.

“And out of the goodness of their heart the Church, or the pope, just walked right up to you for no reason and offered you the chance of salvation for what reason?”

Kimball was starting to feel cornered. Unlike Stanley, who was unschooled, Jeff was a learned individual who had the capability to eye every possible angle, like a prosecuting attorney.

“They didn’t come to me,” he lied. “I went to them.”

“So all of a sudden you have this epiphany—”

“What’s an epiphany?” asked Stanley.

“Shut up. So all of a sudden you have this epiphany and the Church is willing to just open its arms in forgiveness to a killer like you.” Jeff snapped his fingers. “Just like that, huh?”

“No, not just like that,” said Kimball, grabbing his own collar. “As you can see, I’m indebted to the Church for the rest of my life.”

Jeff stared at the pristine white collar. “And if you walk away?”

“Then I’ll end up like you,” he told him. “I’ll be damned.”

Jeff finally fell back into his seat. “I can’t argue with that,” he said. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I was you, Kimball. Your atrocities can never be forgiven, no matter how much you bow down to your new-found God.”

Sadly, Kimball thought the man to be spot on with his assessment.

And then Jeff leaned forward once again and placed his elbow and forearm on the table. “You think you can push aside your conscience long enough to be one of us again? You think you can kill this guy?”

Kimball nodded. “Even the Church recognizes the right to defend itself,” he said. Hence, the Vatican Knights.

Jeff stared at Kimball long and hard, deciphering whether or not the man could be trusted and brought into the Hardwick fold. Kimball could still be an asset given his very particular set of skills. “Have you kept up with your abilities?”

“I exercise.”

Jeff sighed as if being taxed. “Have you kept up with your abilities?”

“I can definitely hold my own,” he countered.

“I don’t need a liability, Kimball. I need assets.”

“My skills have never wavered,” he said firmly.

“Well, imagine that,” Jeff said cuttingly. “A priest who can wield a knife like no other. I find that quite odd. Don’t you?”

“Look. We can sit here and go in circles all you want about me and what I can or cannot do, or we can discuss how to set up a perimeter and protect ourselves against an assassin who is getting closer with every breath we take.”

Jeff picked up the edginess in Kimball’s voice. “All right, but let me say this. Once this mission is over, then you can run back to the Church and live out your life of hypocrisy. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“I’m here to help all of us. I’m not here to win your approval. Just keep that in mind.”

Jeff smiled sardonically. “Then let’s start talking suspects, shall we?”

“Yeah… Let’s.”