Day of Confession (51 page)

160

11:04
A.M
.

SCALA LEANED ON THE HOOD OF ROSCANI’S blue Alfa, a set of binoculars trained on the distant gates. All he could see was the slight bend of the tracks as they curved inside the wall and a small part of the station but that was all. Behind it everything, despite the new breeze, was still thick smoke. Castelletti stood halfway down the tracks in front of him, staring at the same gape in the wall. Despite the wail of sirens, they had heard the gunshots, and as much as they knew their job was to wait for the train to come out and follow it to where it stopped, both had to work with all they had not to rush in after Roscani. But they couldn’t, and they knew it. All they could do was watch and wait.

“YOU HAVE A GUN, Mr. Addison. Please give it to me.”

Harry hesitated; Kind pushed the machine pistol up under Elena’s ear.

“You know who I am, Mr. Addison…. And what I will do…” Thomas Kind’s voice was calm, a slight smile crossing his lips.

Slowly Harry reached into his belt and lifted out the Calico.

“Put it on the floor.”

Harry did, then stood back.

“Where is your brother?”

“I wish I knew…” Harry’s eyes went to Elena.

“She doesn’t know either,” Thomas Kind said with the same calm. Elena had been alone, running to the freight car, when Kind suddenly came down over the edge of the wall and grabbed her, demanding to know where Father Daniel was. She had no idea, she told him defiantly. The father had gone one way, she another. She was a nurse, Father Daniel’s brother was bringing a wounded man to the train. And that was where she was headed, to give the service that was needed.

It was at that moment, when he had Elena by the arm and saw both the dread and the fiery resolve in her, that Thomas Kind felt the sudden savage rush of his addiction come back. He could taste it in his mouth and feel the arousal it gave him. In that instant he knew his retreat from it had ended.

“We are going to find your brother, Mr. Addison,” Thomas Kind said thinly, his calmness turned to ice.

Harry barely heard, his attention on Elena; he was staring at her, trying somehow to comfort her while at the same time find a way to get her out of Kind’s grasp. Then, out of nowhere, a man appeared in the freight car’s open doorway.

It was Eaton. “
Vigili del fuoco!
” Fire department, he said quickly and with authority.

“What are you doing here?” Eaton demanded in Italian. He was playing it very carefully, not looking at Thomas Kind at all, but addressing them as a group, as if the machine pistol in Kind’s hand didn’t exist.

“Taking a journey.” Kind smiled easily.

Eaton’s automatic appeared from nowhere. The move was professional, calculated, and controlled, going for a single shot between the terrorist’s eyes.

Thomas Kind barely blinked. A short burst from the machine pistol took Eaton just under his nose, blowing him out of the freight car doorway backward and across the tracks in a wash of blood and bone, and sending the automatic flying out of sight.

Elena stiffened in horror. Kind tightened his hand over her mouth.

Adrianna remained frozen where she was. She showed no expression at all. Hercules was on the floor in between Harry and Adrianna, Kind and Elena, his breath held, knowing what they all knew: another squeeze of Kind’s finger and any or all of them were dead.

161

“ADRIANNA—” SUDDENLY THE VOICE OF THE Skycam pilot came through Adrianna’s open phone line, the sound tinny and distant, coming from the cell phone in her jacket pocket.

“Adrianna—we’re holding just outside the Vatican wall at fifteen hundred feet. The train hasn’t moved. You still want us to stay on it?”

“Let the women go…. Let them take Hercules…,” Harry said again.

Suddenly Elena moved toward Hercules. Kind swung the gun.

“Elena!” Harry yelled.

Elena froze where she was. “He’s going to die if he doesn’t get help.”

“Adrianna—,” the Skycam came again.

“Tell him to get off the train and cover the crowds outside St. Peter’s,” Kind said quietly. “Tell him.”

Adrianna stared at Thomas Kind for a long moment, then lifted the telephone and did as she was told.

Kind took a step toward the door and looked up. Saw the Skycam helicopter break its holding pattern, fly east and then swing north to hover over St. Peter’s. Thomas Kind looked back. “Now, we’re going to get out of the train car and go into the station.”

“He can’t be moved…” Elena was looking up at Kind, pleading for Hercules.

“Then leave him.”

“He’ll die.”

Harry saw Kind’s finger dance nervously over the machine pistol’s trigger.

“Elena, do as he says.”

THEY MOVED ALONG the tracks quickly, Kind keeping Elena close, then Harry and Adrianna. Suddenly there was movement at the front of the engine. Two sets of feet were suddenly turning and running away.

Thomas Kind took a half step forward. The train’s engineer and brakeman were dashing toward the open gate in the Vatican wall. Kind’s eyes swung back to freeze on Harry in a deadly warning not to move, then he simply skewed the machine pistol sideways, turned to look, and fired two short bursts. The brakeman and then the engineer went down like suddenly dropped sacks of flour.

“Mother of God!” Elena crossed herself.

“Move,” Kind commanded, and they crossed in front of the engine. “In there,” he said next, indicating a painted door leading into the station itself.

As they moved, Harry saw the wide open gate in the Vatican wall, and, at the far end of the overpass, where the old tracks met the main line, a parked car with two men standing outside it, looking toward them.

Scala. Castelletti.

Roscani was still somewhere inside.
Where?

THE PAIN IN HIS leg excruciating, Roscani alternately walked, then stopped to rest, then walked on again, his right hand pushing hard, as a pressure point against the wound in his thigh. He thought he was moving toward the railroad station, but he was no longer sure, the smoke and the trauma of his wound working to disorient everything. Still, with the Beretta in his free hand, he stumbled determinedly on.

“Halt! Hands up!” a voice suddenly barked out of the smoke in Italian.

Roscani froze where he was. Then he saw a half dozen men with rifles step out of the gloom in front of him. They had blue shirts and wore berets. They were Swiss Guards.

“I am a policeman!” Roscani yelled back. He had no idea whether they were under Farel’s direct orders or not, but he had to take the chance they were not in the same group as the black suits.

“I am a policeman!”

“Hands up! Hands up!”

Roscani stared, then slowly raised his hands. A moment later the Beretta was jerked away. Then he heard one guard speak into a two-way radio.

“
Ambulanza!
”the man ordered urgently. “
Ambulanza!
”

THOMAS KIND shut the railroad station door behind them, and suddenly they were inside the cavernous building that had once been the pope’s marble-walled gateway to the world. Daylight streamed in from the windows above, sending a cascade of brightness like theater spotlights along the center of the floor. But other than that and the dim light coming from the window looking out to the tracks, the inside was dark and cool. And, if it mattered, preciously free from the smoke.

“Now.” Kind released his grip on Elena and stepped back, looking at Harry. “Your brother was coming for the train. Since it’s still here, we will assume he is still coming.”

Harry’s eyes traveled over Kind slowly, as if he were trying to find a spot where he was most vulnerable. Then, behind Kind and through an open door, he saw a white shirt suddenly move out of sight. The trouble was he gave it too much attention.

“So?” Kind said sharply. “Perhaps your Father Daniel is here already….” Abruptly he raised his voice. “You, in the office, come out!”

Nothing happened.

Slowly Adrianna shifted position, moving a step closer to Kind. Harry looked at her, wondering what she was doing. She looked back and shook her head.

“Come out!” Kind commanded again, “Or I will come in.”

Time froze, and then a shock of white hair slowly appeared. And then they saw the rest of the stationmaster. White shirt, black trousers. A man easily in his late sixties. Kind motioned him forward. The man came out slowly. Frightened, staring, confused.

“Who else is here?”

“—No one…”

“Who opened the gates?”

The man raised a hand and pointed to himself.

Harry could see Kind’s eyes move back in his head and he knew he was going to shoot. “Don’t!”

Kind looked at him. “Where is your brother?”

“Don’t kill him, please…”

“Where is your brother?”

“—Don’t know…,” Harry whispered.

Kind half smiled, his finger squeezed the trigger and there was the muffled sound of a jackhammer.

Elena watched in horror as the stationmaster’s white shirt exploded in red. The old man held his stance for a moment then staggered backward, and, turning, fell sideways into the doorway of his office.

Abruptly Harry pulled Elena to him, turning her away from the terror.

Again Adrianna moved her position, another step closer to Thomas Kind.

“You want my brother, I’ll take you to him.” Harry said abruptly. There was no doubt at all that Thomas Kind was altogether insane, and if Danny suddenly showed up, he’d kill them all in a blink.

“Where is he?” Thomas Kind slid a fresh clip into the machine pistol.

“Outside—near the gate. The train was going to stop to pick him up…

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

“Yes. The gates open and close into the wall. There’s nothing there. No place to wait.”

Suddenly Kind was aware of Adrianna’s drawing closer and he turned toward her.

“Careful—,” Harry warned.

“What are you doing?” Kind said.

“Nothing…” She moved closer still, a half step, no more. Her eyes were locked on Kind’s.

“Adrianna, don’t.” Again Harry warned her.

Adrianna stopped. She was five feet from Kind, no more. “You are the one who killed the cardinal vicar of Rome.”

“Yes.”

“In the last few minutes you killed four more people…”

“Yes.”

“And when you find Father Daniel you’ll do the same to him… and then us…”

“Perhaps…” Thomas Kind smiled, and Harry could tell he was enjoying every moment of it.

“Why?” Adrianna said sharply. “What does it all have to do with the Vatican and the poisoning of the lakes in China?”

Harry looked at her, wondering what she was doing. Why she was pressing Kind when he had the gun and she had nothing at all to gain.

Then he realized. The same instant Kind did.

“You’re taping this, aren’t you? You’re wearing a lipstick camera, you’ve got a video rolling…” Kind smiled, wholly amused, amazed at his own revelation.

Adrianna smiled. “Why don’t you answer the question and then we’ll talk about it…”

The next happened in a nanosecond. Thomas Kind lifted the machine pistol. There was the sound of the dull jackhammer. A look of complete surprise swept over Adrianna. She half stumbled, then fell backward.

Elena froze in horror. Thomas Kind moved forward, lost in his own actions. Harry could see the veins bulge in his neck and forehead as he stepped over Adrianna’s body. Firing at it, no longer in bursts but a single shot at a time. Dropping down to a squatting position he smiled and shot her again, then again, almost as if he were making love to her.

It was all too fast. Too violent, too perverse. No time for Harry to react. It was just he, Elena, and Thomas Kind. In the center of the floor of an enormous room. Void of furniture. No place to run. To hide at all.

Then Harry did move. Directly for Kind. Kind saw him and stepped around, bringing the machine pistol up as he did.

“
HARRY!
”

Danny’s voice suddenly echoed across the empty station. Harry froze.

So did Kind, his eyes searching the empty depot.

Abruptly Harry stepped into the line of fire, directly between Kind and Elena and the door behind them.

“Elena, get out. Now!”

Harry’s eyes were locked on Kind’s. His voice full of urgency.

Elena turned, slowly, reluctantly.

“GET OUT!!!”

Suddenly, she broke. Running for the door. In a moment she was across the room and through it.

“THOMAS KIND!” Once again Danny’s voice echoed. “LET MY BROTHER GO!”

Kind felt the touch of his palm against the machine pistol’s grip. His eyes continued to search. Dark, to the bright spots of sunlight in the center of the floor, back to the dark of the room.

“SHE’S GONE, KIND. YOU’RE DONE ANYWAY. YOU KILL MY BROTHER YOU GAIN NOTHING. I’M THE ONE YOU WANT.”

“Show yourself!”

“LET HIM GO, FIRST.”

“I count to three, Father. Then I start to take him apart in pieces. One—”

Through the window Harry could see Elena climb the stairs to the engine. He wondered what the hell she was doing.

“Two—”

Suddenly a series of short, loud train whistle bursts rocked the station. Kind ignored it. Dropped the machine pistol toward Harry’s knee caps.

“Danny!” Harry yelled. “What’s the word?—What’s the word, Danny?”

Harry’s eyes swung to Thomas Kind. “I know my brother better than he thinks.” Harry kept his eyes on the terrorist. “What is it, Danny?—the word!” He yelled again, his voice bouncing in a thousand echoes off the empty station’s stone walls.

“OORAH!”

Suddenly Danny appeared from behind a partition near the back, his wheelchair in deep shadow. Harry saw him push off with both hands. Disappearing into a circle of ultra-bright sunlight streaming through the high windows.

“OORAH!” Harry yelled back. “OORAH!”

“OORAH!”

“OORAH!”

Kind saw nothing but blinding light in front of him! Then Harry began walking toward him.

“OORAH! OORAH!” he chanted, his eyes fixed on the terrorist. “OORAH! OORAH!”

Suddenly Kind swung the machine pistol at Harry. At the same time Danny rolled forward in the wheelchair. There seemed to be flame in his lap.

“
OOOO RAHHHHHH!
”

Danny’s Celtic yell thundered off the hardness of the marbled walls, and the wheelchair moved into view.

“NOW!” Harry yelled.

Kind swung the machine pistol toward Danny, just as he hurled the last of the beer bottles. One. And then two. And they crashed flaming at Thomas Kind’s feet.

For the briefest moment Thomas Kind felt the jump of the machine pistol in his hand and then he couldn’t see. Fire was everywhere. Turning, he started to run. But to run he had to breathe, and without realizing, he inhaled the burning sear, sucking the flames deep, igniting his lungs. There was pain like nothing he’d ever experienced. There was no air to breathe either in or out, not even to scream. All he knew was that he was on fire and he was running. And then time itself began to slow. He could see the outdoors. The sky above him. The looming open gate in the Vatican wall. Curiously and despite the terrible pain that now seemed to exist in every part of him, he felt a deep peace. Never mind what he had done with his life or what he had become; for Thomas Jose Alvarez-Rios Kind, the disease that had ultimately usurped his soul was being terminated. That the cost was enormous didn’t matter, in a matter of moments he would be free.

THE TRAIN WHISTLE still sounding, Scala and Castelletti ran down the track. The gunshots, the train whistle with no train appearing. The hell with it, they were going in. Then they stopped. A man on fire was running through the open gates coming down the tracks toward them.

The policemen watched as the man ran on. Another ten feet, fifteen. Then he slowed, stumbled a few feet more and collapsed on the tracks. He was no more than a hundred feet into Italy.