The Hand of Christ (61 page)

Michael put a hand on the Colonel’s shoulder and stood to leave.

The Colonel shouted out one last question, “How will you find the Monsignor?”

Michael pulled out his CIA issued phone from the inside of his jacket and then reached into his pants where he found the SIM card he had removed earlier. He put it back into the phone, and said, “I am going to call a friend.”

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Calling NORAD

Rome, Italy

Michael had to run through four rooms to get to the kitchen. Once there, he saw drops of blood splattered in a thin trail through the newly remodeled room leading into the pantry; Michael had not seen these before. The Monsignor must have been hiding inside the apartment! Michael was holding the Colonel’s pistol at the ready not sure what he would find.

Before going in, he quietly released the clip and counted the bullets – seven were left. Taking a deep breath he sprang into the pantry, pointing the weapon left and then to the right. Inside, it was a mess. Cans of food covered the floor and more than one shelf was overturned. A bag of flour had burst and its white floury contents were strewn everywhere about the fairly large food closet. Michael could see smears of blood. Behind one of the overturned shelves was the Pope’s secret escape door; it was already open. A bloody handprint was on it. Geoffrey had made his own key.

Michael reached into his pocket and retrieved his small Motorola ear bud and CIA issued cell phone. He shoved the wireless device into his ear. Tapping the screen, his phone illuminated to life. The stairs were steep and covered with the white footprints of the Monsignor. The copper railing was thin and Michael grabbed on to it for support as he rushed down the stairs. Barely ten steps had passed when his hand brushed over something wet. He looked at his hand; it was covered with blood, the Monsignor’s blood.

Michael returned his attention to the phone, and tapped the command on the screen that would take him to his most recent calls.

“
I hope this works.” Michael mentally crossed his fingers as the phone automatically dialed back the number of the last call he had received. Moments went by spilling nothing but silence into his ear.

Then, there was a ring.

CPL York was sitting at his terminal and monitored the now active Ghadr-110X nuclear missiles that had recently sprung to life. Only, he didn’t know they were nuclear; the White House had told no one of this yet. MSGT Bryan sat next to him and held a hot cup of steaming coffee in his thick hands. York couldn’t help but notice that the cup nearly disappeared into the Green Beret’s giant-like mitts. Both men were anxious but bored as they approached the eleventh straight hour of duty. Earlier, the missiles had risen and Iranian soldiers had suddenly become frantic. Since then, nothing else had happened.

A red light on the terminal of MSGT Bryan began to blink causing him to spill almost half of the hot java onto his lap. “What the fuck!” he shouted.

CPL York wasn’t the only one to hear MSGT Bryan’s sudden and unannounced burst of profanity. CPT Scott looked up from his desk at his former teammate and called out, “Master Sergeant Bryan, is everything okay?”

“
No, sir, everything is not okay! I am receiving a call on line Delta!”

This caused both CPT Scott and CPL York to rise from their seats.

“
Come again, Bryan? What did you say?”

“
Sir, you heard me correctly. There is an incoming call on line Delta!”

CPT Scott was making his way to the dumbfounded soldier and declared, “That’s impossible!”

MSGT Bryan called out, “Should I answer it, sir?”

There was no Standard Operating Procedure for this. Line Delta was supposed to be a one-way line of communication, “It must be a malfunction, a phantom ring. Just let it go. Most likely it will stop.”

It didn’t stop.

Michael raced down the stairs.
Answer!
Soon, he was at the bottom and in a long narrow tunnel. The ceiling hung low and Michael had to bend forward to avoid hitting his head. The air was noticeably cooler and damp. The tunnel was underground. Ahead of him was a sharp light that illuminated a short staircase that headed up. He bounded up the stairs to the door, which leads to Via di Porta Angelica and to the other side of the Vatican wall.

The door was wide open.

A number of tourists and locals had stopped and gathered around the door. Michael bolted through it, startling the curious. Quickly, he put his gun back into his jacket and didn’t say a word to them, but closed the door and then held out the small bronze key in front of the lock.
I hope this thing fits!
Michael shoved the key into the lock surprised that it actually did fit. He turned the key, locked the door, and then smiled to all of those that had gathered. A flash of light suddenly snapped in front of him; a laughing teenage tourist with a camera in hand ran away.

Michael looked to the ground, to his left he could see nothing, but to his right he could see a few droplets of blood that headed across the street and to the east. He ran into the street and in the direction of the blood, but was met by the blaring horn of a car and screeching tires. Instinctively, Michael jumped and slid across the hood of an Audi whose driver was screaming incoherent Italian obscenities at him. In his ear the line kept ringing.
Come on! Answer!

“
Sir, line Delta is still ringing!”

“
I know, Master Sergeant, I can hear it!”

“
Well? Should I answer it?”

CPT Scott thought for a moment, and then ordered, “Answer it.”

What they would hear next shocked the members of the CORe team. MSGT Bryan put a wireless headset onto his right ear and then, with a meaty finger, depressed a key on his terminal and answered, “This is the CORe.”

Oh my god! It worked!
Michael was breathing hard, “Hello, NORAD? This is Dr. Michael Sterling – the Professor.”

Damn,
thought CPT Scott.

MSGT Bryan didn’t speak.

“
Hello! Is anyone there! Talk to me, this is an emergency!”

CPT Scott grabbed the wireless earpiece from the large head of the Master Sergeant. “Who the hell is this? How did you tap into this line?”

“
Listen to me! This is Dr. Michael Sterling, codenamed Professor. You helped extract me from Syria yesterday during the attack at Umayyad, the attack that killed the US Ambassador!”

The Captain interrupted the CIA Officer, “Listen, I don’t know who you are or how you got this number, but…”

“
Shut up! You listen to me for Christ’s sake! I know how this must seem to you, but I am the guy you helped get the fuck out of Damascus. Do you remember the Hezbollah soldier that blew the fucking hole in the wall? You had me run through it! There were two Blackhawks with a twelve-man Delta force team! You put me on a Carrier in the Mediterranean, the goddamned President and DCI were on the line!”

CPL York jumped out of his seat, “It’s him, sir, that’s the guy we helped!”

York put on his own earpiece and tapped into the incoming communication. “Dr. Sterling, it’s me, CPL York. I am the person that helped get you through the city.”

Michael recognized the young man’s voice and was relieved, “Listen to me, York. I am in Rome. I need your help again! Do you still have my SIM signal from yesterday?”

York was back in his seat and punching his keyboard faster than he had ever typed. Within a moment, a small green blip appeared on his screen; he zoomed in on it. The dot was blinking and moving near the edge of the Vatican in Rome. York pointed to it showing his Captain.

“
Sir, verify your location.”

“
I am in Rome. I am running away from the Vatican,” Michael saw a street sign; I am on Via dei Corridori heading east!”

The blinking green dot was in the same place and moving the same way. CPL York covered the mouthpiece and mouthed, “It’s him!” to CPT Scott. Scott nodded to the young newly promoted non-commissioned officer that he understood. Moving closer to the Master Sergeant, CPT Scott told him to move NROs 2 and 3 over Rome. He had already begun the electronic procedure before his Captain had made the request.

York spoke to Michael, “Sir, what’s going on? What do you need?”

“
An attempt on the Pope’s life just took place. I am chasing the man that is responsible. He has codes that control the guidance system for weapons that are in Iran’s arsenal. York, I want you to listen closely, those weapons are nuclear tipped! This man intends to fire these weapons at the United States! I need you to find him! We have to stop this!”

The entire staff at the CORe center stopped everything that they were doing. They had all worked for the past eleven hours to monitor the activity along Highway A81 in western Iran, and on the screen were images of the dozen long and fat-bodied ICBM’s atop their individual transporters. From their tailpipes, a constant plume of chemical smoke erupted. Until now, not one single person at the CORe center had any idea they were looking at forty-eight nuclear warheads that had the power to obliterate eighty percent of the United States’ population.

York broke the silence, “Sir, what would you have me do?”

Michael asked, “By now, I assume that you have moved some satellites overhead?”

York looked to his Captain for permission to acknowledge this; he nodded his head in the affirmative, “Yes, sir, we have.”

“
Find me. When you do, scan ahead in the direction that I am moving. Look for a man in a black cassock; he is on foot. He can’t be more than two minutes in front of me. Most likely he will be moving erratically. He is injured. Do your satellites have thermal reading capabilities?”

“
Yes, sir, I already have your position on screen.”

“
Good. Listen, the man’s right hand will show up hot on your signature, he’s hurt and bleeding heavily.”

“
But, sir, it’s Rome! There’ll be tons of men in priests’ robes; there will be thousands of other people, too. How am I supposed to find him?”

Michael knew it was a long shot but it was all that he had. His tone was even, almost paternal, “York, listen closely to me; I am asking you to find a needle in the haystack. But son, you have to do the impossible. The lives of millions hang in the balance unless we find this man. He can’t be more than two minutes in front of me. Even if he were moving fast, that won’t be more than a quarter mile ahead. Take a breath, trust yourself, and get to work!”

CPL York did as he was told, and took in and let out a breath as Michael had instructed him to do; pushing a number of buttons on his control panel, York zoomed in on Michael. When he saw the CIA Officer close-up, he didn’t need to run a retina scan, he instantly recognized the man. He had an idea; he would backtrack from ahead of him. Immediately he scanned down the road a bit more than a quarter mile and started his search. He hoped it would work.

CPT Scott turned to MSGT Bryan and ordered, “Activate line Omega, get the President on the phone!”

Chapter Seventy

The Oval Office

The White House

The red phone took up very little space on the President’s large desk. Atop
the Resolute,
and next to White Papers on economic reform and Congressional responsibility, it rang.

The light brown desk was built from the wood of a frigate that once had sailed in the Royal Navy under the christening of the HMS Resolute: its namesake. The Queen had given the desk to President Hayes in 1880, and it has since stood quiet as a symbol of the strong relationship between Her Majesty and the United States.

Had it not been for the phone’s Victorian shade of red, appropriate for the simple accoutrement, it would have scantly warranted a second glance when it rang. The sound of the buzzing phone startled all of the men in the room. General Diedrick looked at the President with concern. Today had brought enough surprises; neither wanted another.

The President stood and walked to his desk. Picking up the phone he spoke.

At the CORe Center in NORAD, everyone was silent as the voice of the President of the United States, for the second time in as many days, echoed overhead in an omnipresent manner.

The four most powerful words a man can say piped over the loudspeakers, “This is the President.”

“
Sir, this is CPT Scott from the CORe center,” Scott paused.

“
Yes, CPT Scott, what is it?” The President’s response had no traceable amount of patience or respect.

“
Sir, the Professor is on the line, he is calling from Rome. I think you might want to hear what he has to say.”

What the hell?
“Dr. Sterling? Rome?” The president covered the mouthpiece of his phone and quietly told General Diedrick to put the call over the Oval Office’s intercom system.

CPT Scott swallowed hard, “Yes, sir, he’s in Rome,” instantly wondering if he had made a mistake.

Michael could hear the conversation and gruffly interrupted, “Mr. President,” he was breathing hard, “I am in Rome and am chasing a man that is responsible for the attack on the Pope!”