The Chimera Sanction (18 page)

Klein banked, and pulled up violently at the last second. The missile swooped past and slammed into the building in a great ball of orange fire.

‘Christ, how long can we keep this up?’

‘Not long. The only reason we’re still alive is the Comanche’s infrared suppression system is keeping their heat-seeking missiles from
maintaining
a lock on us. They’re bound to get lucky.’

‘Great. Just pissing great.’

Klein looked at his radar, and suddenly the MIGs angled to the right, and headed south. ‘They’re going. They’re breaking off!’ Klein’s voice was a mixture of astonishment and relief.

‘Really?’ said Dulac.

‘We’ll know for sure in a minute.’

Dulac saw the blips on the ’copter’s radar head towards the edge of the screen and disappear. Klein took the ’copter up, away from the lights of Benghazi and headed north-east, for the safety of the Mediterranean and its international airspace.

‘I love this helicopter,’ said Klein.

Ten minutes passed in silence before Dulac, not yet fully convinced they had escaped, asked Klein, ‘We were sitting ducks. Why did they break off?’

‘No idea. They had every reason to take us down. We’re a military helicopter violating their airspace.’

Dulac could only conclude that someone high up had ordered the MIGs to retreat. Was it Gazzar, or Kargali himself?

The Comanche was now host to a high-pitched whistling sound, made by the draft of forced air through the bullet holes in the chopper’s tail. Dulac looked back, ‘Your Holiness, are you all right?’ Dulac said.

‘Yes. I, I think so.’

‘Lescop?’

‘I’m OK.’

Dulac turned towards Klein. ‘Will this thing make it?’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

‘How far to the Italian Coast?’

‘About another hour.’

‘Are we within cell range?’

‘Maybe.’

Dulac grabbed his encrypted cell from his vest pocket and dialled Legnano’s number. He recognized the assistant secretary’s voice. ‘Dulac. Put me through to His Eminence. It’s urgent.’

Moments later Legnano came on the line. ‘Mr Dulac. It sounds as—’

‘Yes your Eminence. We’re still aboard the helicopter. We have His Holiness with us.’

‘Mio Dio. This is great news, Mr Dulac. How is His Holiness?’

‘Tired. We were…. Ah, I’ll explain later.’

‘When will you arrive?’

‘We should be in Rome in about an hour and a half.’

‘This is great news, Mr Dulac, great news. I’ll advise the Curia.’

An hour later Dulac was dozing, dreaming he was in the tranquil comfort of his Paris living room, when from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Klein, head tilted downwards. ‘Hey,’ Dulac said, grabbing Klein’s arm.

Klein’s head snapped back. ‘Yes, yes. I’m fine. Just a bit drowsy.’

Dulac pointed to the GPS. ‘Where are we now?

Klein adjusted the scale of the GPS. ‘About forty-five minutes to Rome.’

Dulac felt a wave of relief and leaned back in his seat. ‘What
happened
to our Italian friends?’ said Dulac.

Klein didn’t answer. Suddenly, his head fell fully forward onto his chest, and the chopper started to bank left sharply.

‘Jesus. Wake up! Wake up!’ yelled Dulac. He shook him. No response. The chopper started to climb. Frantic, Dulac reached for the autopilot toggle, threw it on and turned the knob to 77 degrees on the
computerized
compass. The chopper leveled slowly and resumed its course.

‘Whew,’ said Dulac. He looked at Klein, whose face was green. Dulac turned around and looked at Lescop. ‘Somebody will have to land this thing. Can you fly a helicopter?’

‘Not me,’ Lescop answered, shrugging his shoulders in ignorance.

‘How about you, your Holiness? You fly the papal helicopter. This can’t be much different.’

‘No. I cannot. This, this is very different,’ he said, palms upward in refusal.

‘Can you at least try, your Holiness?’ said Dulac.

‘Really, I … I can’t. I’m sorry.’

Dulac turned, faced front and looked into the darkness, feeling
helpless
and silently praying the autopilot controls of the chopper hadn’t
been damaged during the attack.

A moment later, Klein came to. ‘Where are we?’ he said.

‘Thank God,’ said Dulac. ‘You passed out so I put it on autopilot.’

‘Good work.’ Klein flipped off the autopilot and looked at the GPS. A little red box on the screen was flashing waypoint arrival.

Given the too short amount of time to prepare for the safe and orderly welcoming of the Pope, the members of the Curia had decided to disclose the Pope’s rescue and impending arrival to a limited number of Vatican-accredited members of the press.

Braving the chill of the night, a gaggle of reporters and TV crews waited patiently, under the supervision of the Guidonia airbase security forces. Finally, the Comanche’s landing lights came into view, piercing the night with their two cone-shaped beams. A murmur ran through the assembled reporters: ‘That must be it!’ Moments later, the helicopter landed abruptly, and its rotor blades came slowly to a stop.

Behind the reporters, standing beside two papal limousines, Harris, Legnano and Sforza waited in silent expectation. A moment later, the helicopter’s door opened. ‘It’s him. It’s His Holiness,’ one of the reporters shouted.

Dressed in white, his head bandaged, he waved, climbed carefully down the steps onto the tarmac and kneeled to kiss the ground.

Camera lights burst into a frenzy of flashes. He stood up and waved again. A cheer erupted from the reporters. ‘
Viva il Papa! Viva, viva il Papa!
’

Eight Swiss Guards suddenly appeared and immediately formed a corridor of protective phalanxes on either side. ‘Let the Pope through,’ said one of the guards to the onrushing reporters, as they ushered him to one of the limousines.

‘Thank God, thank the Lord. Welcome back, your Holiness,’ said Cardinal Legnano, standing beside the limousine, his arms open in welcome.

‘Thank you, Cardinal. It’s good to be back. The Lord is my shepherd and has shown me mercy.’

‘How are you feeling, your Holiness?’ said Legnano.

‘Lucky to be alive. We were attacked by the Libyans.’

‘What?’ said Legnano.

‘We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I’m quite tired.’

‘Of course, your Holiness. Doctor Mantegna is waiting in the
limousine
. He’ll check your vital signs right away, then we will go to the—’

‘No fuss, Legnano. I’ll rest at the Papal apartments.’

‘Your Holiness, I must insist that we go directly to the hospital. You’ve been under tremendous stress. And that head wound must be looked at right away.’

‘All right, Legnano, all right.’

They entered the limousine and were quickly off, escorted by a gaggle of motorcycle policemen.

Followed by Lescop and Klein, Dulac was making his way through the scribes and TV reporters when he saw Harris wave them over to the other limousine.

‘Where did you rescue the pontiff?’ a reporter asked Dulac,
accidentally
jabbing Dulac’s left temple with his microphone.

‘For Christ’s sake,’ said Dulac, recoiling in pain. ‘Let us through.’

‘So where?’ insisted the reporter.

‘Wait for the Vatican’s press conference. You’ll get all the information then.’

Undeterred, the reporter shoved the microphone in Lescop’s face. ‘And you rescued His Holiness—?’

‘No comment,’ interrupted Lescop.

Klein had taken off his helmet, and the reporters saw his makeshift bandage.

‘You’ve been wounded!’ said one of the reporters, signaling to his cameraman to focus on Klein.

‘It’s nothing,’ said the pilot.

‘Where did it happen?’ continued the reporter.

Klein didn’t answer and kept on walking, as other reporters started to gather. ‘What is the range of the helicopter?’ said another reporter.

The pilot smiled. ‘Far.’

‘Russia?’

‘Why not?’

Harris and Cardinal Sforza, now joined by Dulac, Lescop and Klein stood next to the limousine, surrounded by policemen and the Swiss Guards.

‘Well done. Well done, gentlemen,’ said Harris as he enthusiastically
shook Klein’s hand, then Lescop’s.

Dulac felt the obvious slight. True to form, asshole.

As Sforza ushered everyone into the limo, Dulac sat next to the door, beside Sforza. After a quick embarrassed look towards Dulac, Sforza said, ‘Gentlemen, on behalf of the Christian world, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We will not forget you have risked your lives to save His Holiness and bring him back safely.’

Seemingly unimpressed, Harris looked at Sforza, ‘Actually, your Eminence, it was essentially a matter of good planning. I—’

‘Your Eminence, we had better get Mr Klein to a hospital,’
interrupted
Dulac.

‘I’m all right,’ said Klein, sitting next to the chauffeur.

‘No you’re not,’ said Dulac.

‘What happened?’ said Harris.

‘It’s a long story,’ said Dulac, He turned and eyed Harris. ‘Before I forget, according to the Berbers that were keeping the Pope, de Ségur and his goons left yesterday morning by van.’

‘I’ll bet he’s in Benghazi,’ said Harris. Dulac shrugged his shoulders.

Sforza leaned forward and spoke to the chauffeur, ‘To the Agostino Gemelli Clinic, then to the Vatican.’

‘Yes, your Eminence,’ said the chauffeur.

Turning to the others, Sforza said, ‘We’ll meet Inspector Guadagni, Haeflinger and the rest of the Curia.’

‘Who is Haeflinger?’ said Dulac.

‘Colonel Ernst Haeflinger has replaced Romer,’ said Sforza. ‘Don’t worry, we’ve checked his background.’

‘Any news on the cause of Romer’s death?’ Dulac said.

‘Apparently someone poisoned his beer with the same poison that killed Aguar. Inspector Guadagni has started a full investigation.’

A half hour later, they entered the Segnatura room and were greeted by the muted applause of the Cardinals.

‘Cardinal Legnano telephoned from the Agostino Gemelli Clinic where His Holiness is undergoing a preliminary examination. Legnano will join us shortly,’ said Brentano. ‘In the meantime, please be seated.’

Twenty minutes later, as Dulac was still describing the night’s events to Harris and the astounded cardinals, Legnano entered the room and all eyes focused on him.

‘Gentlemen, the doctors have given me an initial assessment of the Pope’s health. His vital signs are good. The Pope is understandably tired, but in good spirits. He will rest for a day or so, and then undergo a
comprehensive
medical examination.’

The other cardinals nodded their approval.

‘What about surgery to save his ear?’ asked Fouquet.

‘The doctors will do tests at the first opportunity. After so much time, I’m told it looks doubtful,’ said Legnano.

‘I will prepare the press conference to announce the Pope’s return,’ said Sforza.

As the early morning dawn broke over Rome, Dulac and Harris took a taxi and headed back to the hotel. Dulac, barely awake, wasn’t about to interrupt the long, uncomfortable silence inside the cab when
suddenly
Harris burst out, ‘Let’s get this straight between us once and for all, Dulac. If you think you’re getting some oohey, goohey gobs of praise from me, a golden star in your little scrap book, you’re going to wait a long time. You’re sadly mistaken if—’

Dulac exploded. ‘For Christ sake, I followed your goddamn scheme, nearly got my butt shot out of the sky while rescuing the Pope out of some hole in Libya, and all I get from you is this shit?’

Harris’s tone mellowed. ‘All right, all right. So you did well. I’m not questioning that part of the operation, although you could have let us know earlier about de Ségur. We would have—’

‘We were a bit busy dodging Libyan missiles, and trying to keep the Comanche in the sky.’

‘Yes, yes, I realize that. I don’t want to appear ungrateful but we must begin to think ahead.’ Harris, his breath smelling of alcohol, turned towards Dulac. ‘How long do you think the press will let us off the hook for not catching de Ségur? A week? Two at the most? I hate to have to keep reminding you, Dulac, that until de Ségur is eating lunch behind the bars of La Santé Prison, we’ve failed, we’ve—’

‘Cut the crap, Harris. You mean I’ve failed.’

‘As you wish. This rescue is only a part of the overall mission. Need I remind you de Ségur has two, no, now three red flag warrants for his arrest?’

‘After a good night’s sleep, I’ll give de Ségur my undivided attention.’

‘Get on his tail,’ said Harris, his face near Dulac’s. ‘He’s probably lying low in Benghazi. We can still get him while he’s in Libya. May I remind you, Dulac, that, as my lawyer friend says, time is of the essence?’

Harris’s breath was bearing down on Dulac and he leaned slightly towards the window, away from the offensive odor. ‘I doubt he’s in Benghazi,’ he said. ‘He’s trying to get the hell out of Libya before Kargali finds out he’s been screwed out of the opportunity of a lifetime. If de Ségur is still in Libya when the colonel finds out—’

‘If, when, probably…. I want more than your damn hypotheses and theories, Dulac. I want results.’

‘The colonel will throw the dogs after his hide. My bet is he’s making a run for it out of Libya. Problem is, we don’t know where the bastard is headed with those vans. They—’

‘Dulac. Am I getting through?’

‘Loud and clear. By the way, when you said that time is of the essence, did you call for a satellite search on the vans?’

‘How could I? I had no idea de Ségur was using vans.’

‘One might have anticipated the possibility. Of course, by now it’s probably too late.’ Dulac suppressed a yawn. ‘Those satellites would be trying to cover the whole of North-east Africa.’

‘Give it a try,’ said Harris. ‘One never knows. Have Dieter coordinate it with the French. And call Boning in Tunis. Have him take the next plane to Benghazi.’

Dulac bit his tongue, knowing full well that sending an agent to Benghazi and commencing a satellite recon search was a complete waste of time and money.