The Vatican Knights

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Shari mustered the courage to set herself in motion. She took deep breaths and released them as if in a Lamaze class. When her mind calmed to the point of clear cognizance, she called Alan Thornton, the presidential advisor.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“That‘s not important.”

“Shari, what‘s wrong? You don‘t sound right.”

“Alan, please, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What?”

Shari confided with him about the Soldiers of Islam having been identified from the Clark County Coroner’s Office in Nevada, and about the CD being a covert schematic of war involving US and allied interests. Thornton remained quiet, taking in every word as Shari spoke in a quick clip.

Then Shari dropped the bomb shell. “I know about the Force Elite, Alan. I just didn’t think that after what we’ve been through together that you would support my eradication.”

“Eradication? What the hell are you talking about?”

“My attackers. The ones I told the president about as he was looking over the photos in his office just before he went on the air. They were the Force Elite.”

The line was silent a moment. “Are you telling me that you were attacked by the Force Elite in your home?”

“Then you acknowledge that they exist?”

Thornton paused again. He sighed. “I won’t deny it, Shari. They’ve existed since the CIA was no longer granted permission to commit assassinations after the Ford Administration, but I’m sure you already know that. But to send them to your house to eradicate you, that’s absolutely out of the question. The top guns in this administration, me included, have to come to a mutual agreement to dispatch them. And believe me, nobody would be in agreement to eradicate you. In fact, the team is dormant.”

“What about the president? Could he dispatch them without your knowledge?”

“Possibly, but I doubt it.”

“How would you know?”

There was another pause. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

“Then it could be possible that he’s working in collusion with others without your knowledge, knowing that some of you may disagree with his, shall we say, illegal machinations, perhaps putting his trust only in those he knows will support him unconditionally.”

“I would hate to think that of our president.”

“Is it possible, Alan?”

“Anything is possible.”

“I think he had something to do with the kidnapping of the pope.” She outlined the theory of his disappearance, of how it colluded with the contents of the CD, the execution murders of the Soldiers of Islam, the connection between Abraham Obadiah and the sudden attack against her life by the Force Elite. In an odd way, Thornton thought, it made sense now that she had pieced it together for him.

“If what you say is true, then you have to be careful.”

“I am.”

“You can’t fight this alone.”

“Then fight with me.”

Thornton mulled this over. “I’ll get on it,” he finally said. “There are people on Capitol Hill I can trust. Honest people. But I pray to God you’re wrong, Shari. I really do. President Burroughs is a good man.”

“That you know of, anyway. But I guess we’ll both see. And Alan?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t screw me because I have friends in high places too. And to get to me, you’ll have to go through them. And I don’t think you’ll want to do that.”

“Shari, I’m on your side, believe me. If there are improprieties going on in this administration, I want to know about them just as much as you do.”

“We’ll see.” She hung up, staring at the phone and wondering if she had done the right thing. Either Thornton will send forth the Force Elite or he’ll examine the truth with a clear conscience. Either way, the ball was rolling.

Shari snapped her vision between the rearview mirror and the road as she drove toward her mark. True to his word, Kimball kept a buffer zone between her Lexus and his van. Other than catching glimpses of his headlights in the long stretches between them, the roads were clear.

“They know what we know,” she told him over the speaker phone. “If Alan’s a part of this, he’ll definitely inform the president.”

“If the Force Elite aren’t there yet, then they’re certainly on their way.”

“Any news from Leviticus?”

“It’s all quiet on the ‘Western Front,’” he said. “But that’s to be expected. They won’t make themselves known until it’s time to do so.”

Shari’s heart began to palpitate. Although a post-certified officer, she had never been a first-team responder, always arriving at the scene of the crime after the crime had been committed. But this was different. She was going right into the line of fire by placing herself within the crosshairs. Even the presence of Kimball Hayden did little to alleviate her fears. Every mile closer seemed to drive her heart rate faster.

“Shari?”

“Yes.”

“I think it would be best that I come inside with you to assure your safety. The rest of the team is more than capable of taking on whatever comes their way on the outside.”

An image of Gary entered her mind and left, only to return in a series of flashes and snippets of their intimate times together. She saw the moment when they made love for the first time in the back of his car, the seat too small but they made it work. She remembered the two of them picnicking on the bank of a river, feeding ducks, and the lingering kiss that followed. She recalled other good times, loving times — times that cemented their relationship that had over the years flourished rather than diminished, until recently.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she told him. “I think it’s better served that you command the first line of defense. I’m more than adequate at taking care of myself. Believe me, I’m ready for them.”

“Shari, you don’t know what you’re up against.”

She thought of Gary and felt confused. “I know exactly what I’m doing. So please, Kimball, please do it my way. I don’t think it would be a good idea to be—” She cut herself off, about to say alone with you but finished with “—in there knowing you weren’t out there watching over me.”

She could hear Kimball’s audible sigh over the phone. “Be careful,” he told her.

“I will.”

For the rest of the trip she remained silent and tried to recapture those images of her husband that had cropped up in her mind earlier. But all she saw now was Kimball Hayden and the way he smiled, the way he carried himself or cocked his head when thinking about something — and the way he looked at her with those expressive eyes that told her how much he cared for her.

Edgy and confused, she snapped off the cell phone and continued the drive, wondering if she was lying to herself about her feelings for Kimball. She prayed she was wrong, that she wasn’t slipping further away from Gary, whose gentle soul was overshadowed by a man who had made killing his vocation. During the remaining trip she prayed for truth. Perhaps, she thought, the lie in itself was the truth.

She felt like crying.