Reginald Cook - The Hammer of God

He has an undergraduate degree in Library Science, so I made overtures on his behalf, and praise God an opening finally became available and they called me first.” Cardinal Maximilian stroked his chin. “Certainly, you must agree that such diligence and desire to serve must be rewarded,” added Cardinal Polletto.

Cardinal Maximilian smiled. “Certainly,” he said. “It was just a bit unusual for things to move so quickly without proper notification.”

“My apologies for not calling you in the wee hours of the morning, I assumed it would be more prudent to inform you this morning.”

“Yet morning came, and not a word.”

Cardinal Polletto put his hands together as if to pray. He gave a solemn nod. “Again, my apologies.”

Cardinal Maximilian flipped open a file folder. “More disturbing than Father Tolbert’s sudden departure, is his mode of transportation.

The Vatican jet?”

Cardinal Polletto sat back. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the jet was used to transport a group of wealthy European dignitaries here to the states at the Holy Father’s request. I understand they made quite a healthy contribution to several of the Pontiff’s favorite causes.”

“And that figures into Father Tolbert using it how?” asked Cardinal Maximilian.

Cardinal Polletto smiled. “The plane was pre-scheduled to return to Rome. Why let it go to waste?”

“How convenient.”

“You know our Lord, Cardinal, ever ready to meet our needs.” Cardinal Maximilian continued to turn the pages in the folder. He stopped, picked up a page, then lifted his eyes. “I’m sure you’re aware of the complaints we’ve received about Father Tolbert.”

“Oh, complaints?” asked Cardinal Polletto.

“These are challenging times for the Church,” said Cardinal Maximilian. “The scandals concerning our children and their safety in the hands of Catholic clergy are extremely sensitive. Father Tolbert has been the focus of rumblings for the past year.”

“The molestation of children I take very seriously,” Cardinal Polletto lied. “I too have heard the rumors, and looked into them very carefully.

So far, I’ve found them to be nothing more than dead end gossip.”

“If you’ve made a formal inquiry, why haven’t you filed an official report?”

“Official reports tend to get leaked to the press, draw useless, and might I say unfair accusations to the innocent. I see no need to stir up fodder for an already voracious press, and those who hate the Church.”

“I’m mindful of your stern determination to protect the Church,” said Cardinal Maximilian. “In that, you’re not alone, but we must be careful not to seem eager to hide backsliders and transgressors, especially potential pedophiles. It’s a mistake far too many have made at a devastating price.”

“True. The world is never ready to accept our view of forgiveness and repentance.”

Cardinal Maximilian closed the folder. “It seems many of our brothers in service are more prone to forgiveness, than repenting.” Cardinal Polletto leaned forward. “Satan is ever diligent, but we mustn’t allow him to change the precepts outlined by God and the Church, must we? If so, who would we trust?”

“Even so, the violation of children cannot be tolerated, and we can no longer look the other way,” added Cardinal Maximilian, fists clinched.

“Certainly not, but let us be mindful that there is no hierarchy of sin.

If we toss out a priest for one thing, why not for another…theft, lies, deception? We’re all guilty, Cardinal. Sin is sin.” Cardinal Maximilian’s eyes turned red and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “Well, I guess this is a debate for another time.”

“Anytime,” Cardinal Polletto said, wanting to gloat. “It’s been a pleasure, Cardinal Maximilian, as always.”

“Not that I want to dwell on only bad news this morning, Cardinal, but have you heard anything new concerning the kidnapped boy from Father Tolbert’s parish, Samuel Napier?” Cardinal Polletto gave a deep sigh. “Yes,” he said, “young Samuel.

Unfortunately, I haven’t heard a thing. I understand the police and FBI have yet to receive any word from the kidnappers, a grave misfortune.”

“We’ll all stay in constant prayer,” said Cardinal Maximilian. “Let’s hope the family hears something soon.”

“Yes,” said Cardinal Polletto, “let’s continue to pray.”

“I do have one concern,” said Cardinal Maximilian, measuring his words. “Since young Samuel was an altar boy under Father Tolbert, I’m sure the FBI will want to question him at some point.” Cardinal Polletto sat up straight. “The thought crossed my mind,” he said. “In fact, the boy’s godfather has already made an inquiry.”

“Even so, my concern is with the authorities. We should be prepared to make Father Tolbert available if asked.”

“I understand and share your concern, Cardinal. But unless we believe Father Tolbert was somehow involved, I don’t think the Church should go out of its way. If asked, a phone conversation should suffice.” Cardinal Maximilian rocked back and forth in his chair, all the time, his penetrating eyes never moving from Cardinal Polletto. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that you send for Father Tolbert, Cardinal Polletto. Despite your inquiry into the rumors surrounding him, and my concurrence that we should only make him available to the authorities if asked, I want to question him myself. I’ll phone the Vatican Archives and have them hold his position. That’s only fair.” Cardinal Polletto smiled and stood. “As you wish, Cardinal. I’ll see to it myself,” he said, as they said their goodbyes.

Cardinal Polletto rode up to his top floor office alone. Eyes closed, he fought to steady his nerves, leaning against the elevator’s back wall.

Cardinal Maximilian’s request that he bring back Father Tolbert was impossible if he wanted to keep his plans hidden and moving forward. If he had his way, Father Tolbert would never return to the States. The priest’s uncontrollable urge for children had been useful, but was now an inconvenience. The rumors Cardinal Maximilian spoke of were far more than true. In fact, they were the crumbs of something far more pervasive.

A well-orchestrated effort, and if Cardinal Polletto had his way, would significantly cripple and destroy the Church.

I must keep Father Tolbert in Rome. By the time the world discovers who Samuel Napier really is, it’ll be too late.

The elevator door opened. Cardinal Polletto, his anxiety now abated, was met by his assistant, Father Gerald Volken.

“I need you to get Bishop Niccolo at the Vatican Archives on the phone immediately,” he told the boyish-faced thirty-five year old.

“Yes, Cardinal, right away. I’ve placed your itinerary on your desk, including a list of people you need to call today and their phone numbers.

There’s one at the top of the list that requires your immediate attention,” said Father Volken, following the cardinal into his office.

Cardinal Polletto picked up the list of scheduled phone calls. At the top it read: Call Chicago office, FBI, Agent Baxter, and included a phone number and extension.

Cardinal Polletto looked out over Chicago through his large, pane glass window. “Get me Bishop Niccolo at the Vatican as I requested, immediately.”

R obert parked at the curb across the street from the Napier’s estate.

Except for two unmarked federal sedans out front, and a black SUV with dark tinted windows in the circular driveway, things looked much quieter than the day before. Gone were the black and whites, flashing lights, heavy police presence, television trucks and reporters.

Robert sat a few minutes to calm himself, then got out and walked through the gate entrance, making a beeline for the front door. He was only a few feet away from the house when the front door opened, and an FBI lumberjack, wearing a dark blue suit, emerged and blocked his path.