Authors: Michael C. Grumley
Burk cried out and fell
back onto the thick carpet.
Without the
use of either arm, he couldn’t reach, or even prop himself up.
With his head on the floor, he quickly looked
around the room and used his legs to push himself away, but he froze when Zahn
stepped forward and pointed a gun at the Pope.
“Stop!”
Zahn warned.
Burk stopped, but his
mind was racing.
He had to keep the Pope
alive at all costs. He had to do
something
, even if that meant changing
tactics.
“Don’t shoot,” he cried.
“You want him alive.”
Zahn watched Burk,
lying on the floor with his chest heaving.
He turned to Sarat standing next to him and motioned toward the
door.
Immediately, Sarat ran to the door
and looked outside.
Seeing no one, he
closed and locked it, then returned to Zahn’s side with his gun raised again.
Taking a few steps
toward Burk, Zahn stood over him, watching as he tried still to maneuver with
two arms that didn’t work.
“Mr. Dario
Burk.”
Zahn said with a smirk.
“The famed head of the Swiss Guard.”
He dropped his chin in a sympathetic
gesture.
“No doubt your brain is now
frantically working through scenarios to keep your dear Pope alive.
However, in a few minutes you’ll come to the
uncomfortable and ironic conclusion that ‘throwing him to the wolves’ is your
best and only option.”
Zahn displayed a
sick grin and watched Burk’s eyes, waiting as he desperately tried to think of
any other way.
After a short pause, Zahn
continued.
“And judging from the look of
despair in your eyes, I can see that you’ve just reached that point.”
Screams could be heard
now from the crowd outside as people began to panic.
Zahn cocked his ear.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he said
sarcastically.
“In fact, that sounds a
lot like
pandemonium
.
I know
English is not your first language, but I suspect you know what that
means.”
Burk was still scanning the room
looking for anything, any tool, any helpful item at all, but it was
futile.
He could barely move.
Zahn tried to
relax.
His plan had been long in coming,
and he didn’t have much time, but he wanted to savor every second he
could.
“I imagine now you’re probably
wondering
how
and
why
.”
He
raised his eyebrows at Burk.
“Yes?”
He shrugged when Burk didn’t answer.
“The
how
was easy.
Easier than you think.”
He turned to the Pope, now speaking to them
both.
“You can thank terrorism.
After all, it was the 9/11 attack on our Twin
Towers that gave the United States the new enemy it so desperately needed.
It gave us both an enemy and a perfect
distraction for the entire world.
Put
enough fear into the people, and governments can do anything, least of which is
to justify and expand its military empire.
And that constant fear of terrorism allowed us to do just that.”
Zahn looked to the Pope then back to Burk on
the floor.
“Unfortunately, politicians
are rather stupid, and there were terrible consequences they didn’t bother to
think about.
Do you know what I am
referring to?” he asked, chiding him.
“Why the laws, of course.
Laws
that called for all departments to act in tighter concert.
What could go wrong?”
A fiendish smile returned to his face.
“Now, you lay there on the floor slowly
bleeding to death and asking yourself how in the world we ever got past your
security.
The reason, is
because we
were the security
.”
Sergeant Fish watched
silently as Rand and Avery lay face down on the sidewalk, both bound in
handcuffs.
His team members stood behind
him.
The hysteria was still growing with
more of the crowd beginning to panic and run, while the police officers tried
to keep the stampede away from them and their prisoners.
Fish smiled when he saw one older officer
look around and then quickly kick Rand in the face with his boot.
He promptly stepped back as blood began to
appear on the cement under Rand’s mouth.
Fish scanned the area,
looking for the woman and girl, but there was no sign of them.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before the
officers began to realize that neither of their prisoners on the ground could
have been the one who shot into the crowd behind the building.
They had to move fast, prompting Fish to step
forward and show his military ID.
“We
have orders to investigate.”
“We’ve got it
contained,” an officer growled.
Fish shrugged.
“We can see that.
But we still need to have a look and report
back.
Orders.”
“Whatever.”
He motioned to the broken window.
“We already searched the place.”
Fish nodded and walked
past him, examining the window pane momentarily before stepping inside what
appeared to be the office waiting room.
The rest of his team followed, and one by one they searched all the
rooms and ended at a back door leading into a maintenance hallway.
Fish looked up and down the hallway, noticing
the dented circles in the far door.
There were several other doors in the hallway too, all connecting to
other offices or store fronts in the complex.
They walked up and down the hall, trying all of the door handles,
starting with the doors nearest the end.
They used a standard entry technique with one man forcing the door open
while two more swept in behind him with guns raised.
The first two doors led
to a lawyer’s office and a CPA firm.
The
two teams moved silently, through the various rooms and around desks, looking,
but found nothing.
They were
undeterred.
The two men had to have done
something with the girls before they were taken.
But what?
The next few doors led
to similar businesses or empty spaces, but they found nothing.
Fish knew that soon the police would be
looking for
them
, wanting to ask more questions.
He found the last door was unlocked and
opened into the back of a small convenience store.
The soldiers entered quietly and could hear a
commotion up front which sounded like looting.
There was yelling and screaming between multiple voices.
Fish held up his hand for the team to stay
back as he swept the back room with the barrel of his gun.
He opened a large,
metal refrigerator door and stepped inside.
After a few minutes, he stepped back out and shut it again quietly.
On the other side of the room were columns of
boxes, stacked almost to the ceiling, most of which were empty.
There appeared to be little room between them
for anyone to hide.
He began to turn
back to the door when he noticed several tall, thin CO² tanks stacked neatly in
the corner.
He studied them
closely.
With the noise increasing from
the front of the store, Fish slowly stepped forward toward the tanks.
Without letting go of his rifle, he wrapped
his left arm around one of the tanks and pulled it forward.
He then bent down and looked through the gap
and into the green eyes of Christine.
The sound outside was
becoming chaotic as people badly wanted out from the middle of a frightened
crowd.
Hundreds of security personnel
tried to keep the movement orderly, but their barricades were simply getting
overturned or destroyed.
Zahn leaned on the back
of an upholstered chair looking at the Pope, who stared back at him.
The man did not seem the least bit
afraid.
Zahn was impressed.
Behind him, Zahn’s men
watched the Pope with disdain.
Perhaps
he would be more afraid if he knew, beneath the makeup these men were wearing,
they were Islamists right down to their bones.
Zahn turned back to
Burk on the floor, who was still fidgeting with two bad arms.
The man just wouldn’t give up.
“Are you wondering
why
yet?”
Burk did not
answer.
He simply stared back with a
look of defiance.
“Of course you
are.
Let’s just say…this is payment for
services rendered.
A debt, if you will.”
“Listen to me,”
Burk said with a strained voice.
“Just keep him alive and unharmed.
If you keep him unharmed, they will give you
anything you ask.
Anything!”
Zahn looked back to the
Pope and then raised his eyebrows at Burk.
“Oh, I know.”
46
The death of the Pope
was absolutely devastating.
It was as if
the entire world cried out at once.
Millions of people simply burst into tears or fell to their knees,
shocked at the news.
Hospitals were packed
with people who had collapsed or fainted, and from almost every developed
country in the world came reports of people who had fallen dead right where
they stood.
Brazil and Mexico, the
two most populous catholic countries, suffered a nationwide freeze when almost
no one showed up for work.
Instead, the
churches were overwhelmed with mourners.
Italy fared even worse where in Rome the utter shock resulted in an
eerie silence of nearly three million people.
In Vatican City, the long held tradition of closing the papal apartment
and destroying the Fisherman’s ring following a pope’s death seemed to be
forgotten.
His death was horrific
enough, but murder was beyond all comprehension.
And while the devastation was unimaginable,
the retribution was immense.
Millions of
Catholics immediately blamed the entire Middle East, including anyone with
relations to them, even those who simply shared their skin color.
Worst still, no one had
any idea who had done it.
It had
happened during the hysteria in New York, where Pope Pius and the entire Swiss
Guard team responsible for protecting him were slaughtered.
Every possible security department within the
United States was scrambling for clues or information.
It had happened quickly and in the church’s
sacristy, the chamber reserved for formal preparation.
But during the mania, no one had seen anyone
enter or exit the room.
Never had the
world demanded answers so forcefully and with such little information
available.
Zahn took a drink of
his scotch and leaned back into his chair.
He flipped between news stations thoroughly reveling in the absolute
chaos that was unfolding.
It was even
more delightful than he’d dreamed.
After
years of planning, it had gone off without a hitch.
Without a single hitch.
Doing something like this without a serious
problem was virtually impossible, and it left him feeling as though he was
destined
for it.
He thought back over
the two decades it had taken him to bring all of it to fruition.
Years spent at the Department of Defense, the
National Security Agency, and finally the State Department, all critical in
arranging and achieving the greatest attack on the “church” ever imagined.
So great was the impact, that talk spread
around the world of the ancient Crusades and whether a war between Christianity
and Islam had reignited.
The television screen
showed scene after scene from around the globe of people sobbing, unable to
believe it.
And in the end, it was all
due to one man, a man who had just changed the world forever.
Finally, Zahn smiled
when he thought of the bonus, the second prize that clearly proved his
destiny.
He had the girl too.
In
fact, he had both her and the woman aboard the very plane he sat on.
He wondered if it could get any better.
Kia Sarat approached
with a serious face.
“Well?”
Zahn asked.
“Iman put them both
out,” Sarat replied.
“And it will last the whole way?”
“He is sure it will.”
“Good.”
Zahn sat thinking for a few moments and then finally nodded.
He then looked up at Sarat and raised his
glass. “Care for a drink to celebrate?”
Sarat did not
appreciate the humor.
Zahn knew he did
not drink.
Alcohol was a poison and
nothing more.
He disregarded the comment
and decided to let Zahn boast.
After
all, it was a great accomplishment.
Something no one else could have done.
“We will be out of US
airspace in two hours,” Sarat said.
Zahn took a sip of his
scotch.
Two hours.
And then he would never see the United States
again.
He felt no emotional loss at
all.
It was just a country, and by the
time they figured everything out, it would be too late.
“Tell the pilots
they’re on radio silence.
They’re not to
respond to anyone, for any reason!”
“They will respond to
no one.”
Their new home was
Argentina.
A beautiful country, ruled by
a blatantly corrupt government, which was just what he wanted.
He sure as hell didn’t want to be in the
northern hemisphere.
“Are we sure we
have everyone?”
“Everyone is aboard,”
Sarat replied.
“Soon, we’ll be home
free.”
Zahn smiled and took
another sip.
Home free.
That phrase had always seemed a little ironic
to him.
Rand thought about his
decision and prayed.
He simply didn’t
have a choice; he couldn’t risk Sarah’s life.
And it was clear something had changed.
Whoever wanted Sarah was no longer trying to kill her; they wanted to
capture her.
Ever since the elevator
bomb, they had not shot or attacked until after Rand had.
He prayed again and hoped, more importantly,
that she and Christine had escaped.
He had no idea where
Avery was, somewhere close most likely.
Rand hoped he was still alive, as he himself
lay on the floor barely able to breath.
His entire body was black and blue, a keepsake from the guards after
they learned where and why he was arrested.
Something bad had
happened.
What it was, he didn’t know,
but it was clear they blamed him for it.
Rand tried to open either one of his eyes but couldn’t.
He tried to remain as still as possible.
Every part of his body screamed in pain, and
he could feel bones broken, but what frightened him the most were the injuries
inside.
Each breath felt like a knife
slicing through his abdomen, and it felt like it was getting worse.
Lying on the cold stone
floor, he couldn’t see it, but he could feel it begin.
It was subtle at first, but steadily growing
stronger.
His hands were beginning to
tremble.