The Vatican Knights

CHAPTER TWENTY

The distance between the Archdiocese of Washington and the Sacred Hearts Church was less than a mile. The Vatican Knights walked through the soup of an early morning fog, their footfalls quiet and catlike.

When they arrived, the church’s brownstone walls bore the greasy sheen of wetness. The stained-glass windows emitted a faint glow from candles burning within, flickering with the rhythm of a heartbeat.

When they stepped inside the church, the fog did not follow, as if the hallowed interior prohibited its wisps. Kimball closed the door, the snicker of the bolt echoing throughout the church.

The church’s interior was a magnificent blend of Gothic and Baroque design with a few medieval touches. The altar, adorned with alabaster statues of angels and cherubs taking flight above a crucified Christ, served as the focal point. The surrounding rows of pews remained empty and waiting.

Kneeling before the altar, Father Juan Medeiros, in full vestments, prayed silently with his head bowed, his lips moving and his hands held together. When finished, he gained his feet, gave the sign of the cross, and turned toward the Vatican Knights, who stood in the shadows by the archway.

“How can I help you at so late an hour, my brothers?”

Kimball stepped into the sallow light, the candles’ flames throwing odd shadows along the walls as he and the other Knights made their way to the altar.

“You would be Cardinal Medeiros?” asked Kimball.

Medeiros came forward and lifted the sleeve of his cleric robe to offer a hand. “Kimball Hayden. I’ve been expecting you,” he said.

“And this is my unit.”

Cardinal Medeiros smiled, his face hardly seamed by age. “Yes, of course,” he acknowledged. He observed the Knights’ black berets, each bearing an embroidered coat of arms, the symbol of their unit.

“Please,” he said, pointing toward the rear of the altar, “this way. We’ve much to do and talk about.”

The Knights followed the priest through a warren of hallways to a door. Crossing the threshold, they descended a staircase, then maneuvered through a dank corridor cluttered with discarded furniture destined for Goodwill Industries. Finally, they halted before a metal fire door.

“No doubt Cardinal Vessucci has told you of my position here in the States.”

Kimball shook his head. “Only that we were to contact you for intel, nothing more.”

The cardinal felt slighted at being identified as “nothing more” than an intel source, but he said nothing.

To the left of the fire door, Cardinal Medeiros typed in a numeric code on a keypad, which drew back an electronic bolt. When the door opened, the men descended another set of stairs leading into sepulchral darkness. With every step the air became noticeably cooler and damper, carrying the smell of must and earth. At the bottom of the stairwell was a brownstone wall with several outcroppings of fieldstone arranged like diamonds set within a pendant. Prudently, Cardinal Medeiros began to push certain stones while ignoring others, causing the false wall to slide inward and grate against the concrete floor.

“The stones act as a combination,” he said. “It’s a safeguard against unwanted entry. Very few people are authorized to see what’s in this room.”

Once the wall closed behind them, the darkness becoming complete, Cardinal Medeiros called out a voice command and tracks of bright fluorescent light flicked on, illuminating a room with antiseptically clean white walls. Behind numerous glass cases were a displayed range of weapons, from handguns to automatic rifles. Some of these were modified firearms, unrecognizable even to Kimball, who considered himself an authority on weaponry.

Kimball and the rest of the team moved toward the displays, mesmerized by the quantity of weapons. In several display cases were state-of-the-art Kevlar vests, engineered with fiber resilient enough to stop high-caliber bullets. In the center of each vest was the embroidered coat of arms of the Vatican Knights. Other cases held headgear, laser sights, double-edged weapons, gadgetry and attachments. To the company of soldiers, the chamber seemed more like a museum than an armory.

“This, my friends, is what I do,” said Medeiros. He walked along the displays with satisfaction. “You’ll find that for this mission the HK XM8 with the baseline carbine and common side-loading 40-millimeter X320 grenade launcher will suffice. The weapon can be quickly modified to a compact carbine, a sharpshooter variant, or an automatic rifle, depending upon your needs. The only drawback is that you must carry all the segments with you to make the necessary adjustments.”

Kimball examined the myriad displays of weaponry and turned to Medeiros. “You engineered these?”

“Not the HK XM8,” he answered. “But most of the others that you see here.” The priest traced a finger along a glass case featuring his designs. “Like you, Kimball, I am a former covert operator, but now my skills are employed to craft the instruments you use.” And then he sighed, almost dreamily. “My years of soldiering are long behind me.” Kimball thought he picked up a sorrowful hint in the man’s tone. “Now I engineer weapons of defense for the Society of Seven.”

“I didn’t know the Society of Seven had any say in weapons development.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot that goes on within the Vatican that you and I don’t know about,” Medeiros said. Then, after sliding back a glass panel to access the HK XM8s, he said, “As you know, the Society of Seven is the Pope’s true line of defense. Although the Swiss Guard is the official army that protects the fortress of the Vatican, it is the Vatican Knights who are considered a very special group with very special needs. Therefore…” He let his words trail as he held out his hand toward the exhibit. “Your special needs.”

Suddenly, the cardinal became somber. “If the pope is killed,” he said gravely, “the world will truly be divided.”

Kimball understood. If the pope was killed, he would become a martyr, dividing Christians and Muslims, almost certainly triggering retaliatory attacks, and putting people of all faiths in danger.

“For the sake of everybody on this planet, Kimball, bring him back.”

“I will.”

Within an hour the Knights had received their equipment and learned to break down and reassemble the modified HK XM8 with little effort. When his team was geared and ready, Kimball proffered a hand to Cardinal Medeiros.

“Remember, Kimball, do what is necessary to accomplish our goal… bring him back.” Medeiros lowered his hand. His face now appeared haggard beneath the lights, the deepening shadows under his eyes giving him the look of a man aging by the minute.

“Now for the details,” said Medeiros. “The powers that be have assigned Billy Paxton of the FBI to negotiate with the Soldiers of Islam, but our sources say that Shari Cohen is the true head of the investigation over at the Bureau. She’s the one you need to contact, Kimball. She’s the one you need to create an alliance with.” Medeiros handed over a dossier. “Everything you need to know about her is in there.”

Kimball glanced over the pages of text, then over the eight-by-ten photo. He noted Shari’s almond-shaped eyes, her smooth features, and how her widow’s peak came to a point on her forehead. After a moment, he closed the file.

“God be with you, Kimball. And good luck.”

In a unified act, each Vatican Knight placed a closed fist over his heart, bowed his head, and got on bended knee. “Loyalty above all else,” they said, “except Honor.”

With another blessing from Cardinal Medeiros, the Vatican Knights left the church, disappearing into a living fog that immediately enveloped them.