Robert Tanenbaum - Counterplay

No, what really frightened him-as a Catholic who on occasion gave some thought to the hereafter-was Kane’s plans for the Pope. The first time he heard about the plan, he’d been staggered by its audacity. You’re insane, he’d said.

The blow from Kane, who’d been standing in front of him, had knocked him from the chair on which he’d sat. You ever call me insane again, and I’ll really show you what happens when I’m feeling a little crazy, you little motherfucker, Kane snarled.

Stavros had never questioned him again. Nor did he now when Kane asked if he was ready. “Yes, Andy.”

There was a moment when Stavros wondered if he’d lost the connection. Then Kane said quietly, coldly, “Emil, if you don’t want me to rip your tongue out and feed it to a dog the next time I see you, don’t ever call me Andy, again.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Kane. Sorry. Yes, everything is ready.”

“Good. Now just sit tight and wait for the transfer. You know what to do after that.”

Kane laughed as he closed the cell phone. What an idiot, he thought. He thinks he’s going to live? But he did love hearing fear in men’s voices when he spoke to them. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

A voice suddenly spoke in the radio receiver in his ear. “Yes,” he said.

“This is Gregor at the back of the cathedral. We have three priests and a nun who say they are with the Pope’s medical team.”

“You check them over with a wand?”

“ Da, they’re clean. No guns.”

“Then let them in. We don’t want to do anything that might cause a fuss.”

At the back of the cathedral where it joined with the building that held the archbishop’s living quarters, as well as some of the archdiocese’s offices, the Chechen terrorist posing as a Homeland Security agent allowed the four late arrivals to pass.

He hardly glanced at the men: an older priest he’d seen in the cathedral directing other priests and nuns to their places for the ceremony; and two men he’d not seen before. One of them was a short, middle-aged Asian, the other a tall, rugged priest with a patch over one eye and a scarred face. However, as the nun went past, he got a good look at her face and thought, What a waste of a fine woman to make her a nun. Too bad there is no time for rape, or I would choose this one. But who cares? After tonight, I will be in paradise with my every need fulfilled by virgins.

As Marlene surveyed the cathedral from her place among a crowd of nuns who’d assembled behind the altar near the Stations of the Cross sculptures, she wondered if she’d been mistaken. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She’d spotted the security detail-four back near her and others scattered throughout the cathedral-who she assumed to be a mix of the pontiff’s private force and federal agents. But they seemed to be relaxed, calmly chatting as they watched the last of the spectators hurrying in to take their seats.

While still in the loft, she’d called Dugan. I need you to help me and two friends get into the cathedral without anybody knowing I’m there, she told him, explaining her reasons.

Dugan was alarmed. If you think there’s a danger to the Pope, I should tell the authorities.

Well, I don’t know if there is a danger to the Pope, she’d replied. This is all guesswork. And to be honest, I’m not sure which authorities you can trust. Definitely not the feds, unless you see Espey Jaxon. I just want to be able to watch for any danger to my daughter, and I might be able to spot trouble and give a warning to the security teams without alarming anyone.

Although still not happy with the plan, Dugan agreed to meet the threesome at St. Malachy’s; he knew Marlene well enough to trust her instincts. Before leaving the cathedral to pick up the Pope’s medical team, as he told the police captain at the security checkpoint, he’d asked two trusted priests and a nun to borrow their security clearance cards, which they’d given with arched eyebrows but no questions.

At St. Malachy’s he’d found enough extra clothing for Marlene, Tran, and Yvgeny to pass as a nun and two priests, though the Russian’s pants rode up three inches above his ankles. I don’t think you’re going to get past the metal detectors with any weapons, he’d said.

Thanks, Father Mike, Marlene said. We’ll have to deal with that if and when the time comes.

Back at the police checkpoint, the three had presented their passes while Dugan explained. Father Karchovski, he said, nodding to Yvgeny, is a Jesuit and a physician. The smaller priest, Father Tran, a visitor from Vietnam, treats the Pope with acupuncture for his arthritis. The sister is a registered nurse who will be assisting Father Karchovski.

Then at the rear of the cathedral, they’d been stopped by the federal agent, who’d at first refused to let them in. No one told me of these people, the man said in accented English.

That’s all very well and good, young man, Dugan said. But I am responsible for the Holy Father’s comfort and safety. Do you want to risk him having a health problem…causing an international incident?

The man decided to call in on his radio. Apparently, whomever he reported to told him to let them pass.

After that, Dugan left them to attend to his tasks. Which left Marlene and her comrades faced with a problem of what to do next. The cathedral would hold more than two thousand visitors and there were a couple hundred more priests, nuns, and other church dignitaries wandering about or receiving last-minute instructions on their roles in the ceremony.

Marlene could no longer see Tran, who’d moved off to stand near the main entrance to the cathedral, or Yvgeny, who’d gone back toward the rear to see if he could spot anything out of the ordinary. However, she could see her husband, Butch, who’d entered the cathedral with the mayor, looked around-obviously trying to find his wife-then sat next to his daughter and her boyfriend. They had not spotted her yet.

She also saw Agent Vic Hodges, standing in a small alcove off to the side of the altar with a dark-haired, dark-mustachioed man where they were out of sight of most spectators but close to where the pontiff would be sitting. Hodges had turned toward her once before she could duck, but he hadn’t seemed to recognize her in the habit of a Carmelite nun.

Marlene glanced at the acolytes who were standing behind the Swiss Guards positioned at the sides of the pontiff’s seats. Then she did a double take as she locked eyes with one, who seemed a bit older than the others. Alejandro Garcia gave her a quick smile, then went back to imitating the actions of his fellow altar boys.

Marlene was thinking about finding a room and changing back into the civilian clothes she was wearing beneath the habit and then taking her seat with her family, when suddenly the nun’s choir began to sing. They were facing away from her, otherwise she might have noticed that two were not singing and that one of the two had a recognizable mole on her cheek.

Too late, she thought, then got caught up in the murmur of excitement among her fellow “sisters” as the pontiff and the soon-to-be new Archbishop of New York passed by. The Pope raised his hand and blessed them, his merry blue eyes for a moment resting on Marlene’s face so that she momentarily forgot why she was there and joined the others, as well as the spectators in the cathedral, in applauding the Holy Father.

The Pope stood before the crowd for a minute, making the sign of the cross and blessing those assembled. He then took his seat and the crowd grew quiet as a priest began the mass in Latin. However, he was almost immediately interrupted when two nuns stepped from the choir, brandishing handguns with silencers attached from beneath the sleeves of their robes.