The Vatican Knights

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The wrapped body of the governor had been placed in the false bottom of the cargo hold. Team Leader drove the vehicle southbound on Route 1 without complication. The roadblocks had thinned considerably since their northward trip, the troops having been redistributed to more centralized positions near D.C.

Apparently, that was where the body politic assumed the Soldiers of Islam to be. Team Leader found himself unable to dispel the preamble of a smile that was forming on his face.

By nightfall he reached the outskirts of Washington, D.C., and drove the vehicle into a storage unit large enough to hold the truck and a sedan. Team Leader lifted the corpse from the hold and placed the body in the trunk of the diplomat-registered car. Once done, he checked the packaged video of the governor’s execution to make sure everything was neat and untraceable then drove away from the facility.

Since D.C.’s populace is strictly a workforce, the streets had emptied by eight o’clock. By ten o’clock it was a ghost town.

Team Leader then drove the sedan to M Street where he parked on the top floor of a parking garage, tucked the video into an inner pocket of his combat fatigues, and took the stairs to the entrance to rendezvous with his contact.

As he waited in darkness, police cruisers made their rounds, which was why he hadn’t parked the sedan outside. A car bearing diplomatic tags parked along M street at such a late hour would only draw suspicion.

“You’re getting sloppy,” a voice said.

Team Leader turned and drew a stiletto with the quickness and agility of a cat. An eight-inch blade shot from the hilt, the point directed at Judas’ throat.

“Take it easy,” Judas said, throwing up his hands. “No need to get your bowels in an uproar.”

Team Leader pressed the knifepoint into Judas’ throat and indented the flesh. “Do that again, Judas, and I will kill you. I don’t care what your position is or what Yahweh will think when I tell him why I cut your throat.”

Judas backed away from the knife. “Relax.”

“You’re a lucky man.” The blade fell back into the hilt and Team Leader packed it away.

“You’re still getting sloppy,” Judas told him. “Letting an old man like me creep up on you.”

Team Leader curbed his anger and removed the keys to the sedan from his pocket. “You know where the car is,” he said. “You know what to do.”

“How come I get all the crap jobs?”

Team Leader couldn’t see Judas’ face, obscured as it was by the brim of his hat and the deep shadows. “You do it for ten million reasons. I do it for only one. And in this case, my one outweighs your ten million.”

Judas accepted the keys. “What about the video?”

“Yahweh wants to see it before we send it off to the proper authorities.”

“That’s macabre-ish of him.” Judas slowly backed into the shadows and was gone, silent, quick, and wraithlike.

Team Leader worked the muscles in the back of his jaw, admonishing himself for letting a man like Judas sneak up on him.