Reginald Cook - The Hammer of God

Dianora puffed on a cigar.

“Ahhh, Mr. Robert Veil, I presume. Come in, we’ve been waiting,” said Rinaldo.

Robert and the others burst inside, guns pointing at Rinaldo, Dianora, and all over the room. It was clear, except for the old man and his daughter.

“Get your hands up where we can see them,” barked Thorne, but the two were slow to comply. She walked over to Dianora, pulled her real weapon, a Glock, and pointed it at the Italian beauty’s head. “I mean it, gorgeous, now!”

Dianora smiled, and slowly raised her hands. “No need for rudeness.

We’re not armed.”

“My daughter speaks the truth,” added Rinaldo, packing his pipe with fresh tobacco. “If we wanted, we could’ve arranged a far more serious greeting, and you would not have gotten this far. But I wanted to meet you. Unfortunately, getting out won’t be as easy.” Robert eased toward the old man, Sister Isabella right behind him.

Robert checked Rinaldo for weapons. He was clean. Thorne gave Dianora a rough frisk.

“She’s clean,” said Thorne. Dianora gave her a hard scowl.

“Please, have a seat,” Rinaldo offered. “I have good wine, and enough tobacco to go around.”

Robert lowered his weapon, as did Sister Isabella. Thorne kept hers aimed at Dianora.

“Thank you,” said Robert. “But we don’t have time. We need information from you, fast.”

Rinaldo smiled. “If I can be of assistance, I surely will. What is it that you require?”

“We need to know the whereabouts of a little boy,” said Sister Isabella. “His name’s Samuel, Samuel Napier.”

“I’m sorry, Madam…” said Rinaldo.

“Sister,” said Sister Isabella, correcting him.

Rinaldo raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Sister, but I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Robert tensed. “Are you trying to tell us you’ve never heard of him, because we know different?”

“What my father’s saying is yes, we know Samuel, but no, we won’t tell you where he is,” said Dianora.

Thorne screwed on a silencer, and aimed lower. “I bet I can get you to talk.”

Robert leaned close to Rinaldo. “We don’t have time to fuck around,” he growled. “If you know something, tell us, or I’ll have my partner shoot Dianora.”

Rinaldo’s countenance changed from grandfather to tyrant in less time than it took for Robert to get out the words. “I said no, Mr. Veil, and I mean what I say.”

Robert turned and nodded to Thorne, who immediately shot Dianora in the left thigh.

Rinaldo jumped to his feet. “Bastardo!”

Robert pushed him back down. Dianora sprawled out on the couch, flailing up and down in pain.

Sister Isabella said a short prayer. “Tell us what we need to know, my child! Tell us!”

Dianora raised up, tears in her eyes. “Go to hell!” Thorne raised the gun to Dianora’s head. “You go first.” Robert grabbed Rinaldo by the collar. “Where’s Samuel?”

“There are forces involved in this you can’t stop. Power in places you know nothing of, and I…” Rinaldo began.

Robert turned to Thorne. “Shoot her again! Kill her!”

“Okay, okay!” Rinaldo bellowed.

Robert held up a hand. Thorne shot Dianora anyway, this time in the right kneecap. Rinaldo screamed louder than his daughter, reached under his desk and pulled out a revolver. Robert heard footsteps running through the house. Thorne shot Rinaldo in the chest as he fired. Sister Isabella stepped in front of Thorne, took the shot to the face, and dropped to the floor. Dianora reached under the couch cushions. Thorne hit her hard in the head with the butt of her gun, knocking her out cold.

Robert leaned over Rinaldo. “Tell us where he’s at!” Rinaldo opened his mouth, but only blood came seeping out.

Two armed men burst inside the den. Thorne killed both of them.

More footsteps rumbled their way. Robert went to Rinaldo’s desk and rifled through the papers. Thorne ran to the door and sent a stream of bullets down the dark hallway.

Robert poured through the papers and files, but nothing caught his attention. He dropped the tranquilizer rifle, pulled out two 9mm automatics and joined the fight with Thorne. Soon, they managed to push the guards back into the main house. Robert shot out a window and dove through it. Thorne followed.

Outside, Robert’s men came dropping over the wall, and soon the guards, outnumbered by firepower, jumped the wall and fled.

Father Kong dropped over the wall and ran over. “Where’s Sister Isabella?” he asked.

Robert took a deep breath. “She’s dead.” He ordered his men to secure the area, while he, Thorne and Father Kong went back inside. The priest fell to his knees over Sister Isabella, and prayed.

“Father, she’s gone,” said Robert. “I need you to look over these papers and tell us if anything sparks a clue.” Father Kong stood, slowly walked over to the desk, and began looking at the papers. Thorne checked Dianora. “She’s still breathing, barely, and bleeding badly.”

“Do what you can to stop the bleeding. We’ll call an ambulance on the way out,” said Robert.

“There’s nothing here,” said Father Kong.

Robert rushed over. “There has to be, keep looking.”

“It’s useless. I don’t see anything we can use.”

“Maybe we should take Dianora,” said Robert.

“She’d never make the trip,” said Thorne. “She’s almost dead now.” Robert cursed. “Then let’s go.”

“We can’t leave Sister Isabella,” said Father Kong. “We have to take her with us.”

Robert looked into the priest’s eyes. He agreed. Her presence would raise too many questions. They grabbed the nun and took her body outside. One of Robert’s men hot-wired a truck. They piled inside and drove back to the cars, where they put Sister Isabella in the trunk, and headed back to the villa.

C ardinal Polletto sat alone in one of Bracciano castle’s large, exquisite dining rooms, enjoying a late dinner of roast lamb, salad and red wine. He finished, savoring the brief sojourn into gourmet delight, then brought his attention and focus back to the matter at hand. He made his way upstairs to his next assignment, confronting Samuel and his brothers for the first time.

Although the effort had been rife with setbacks and delays, the satisfaction of knowing it was almost over brought a sense of impending relief to the cardinal. After all the years of planning and preparation, he was about to deal a death-blow to the Church, and as a bonus he’d get something he very much looked forward to, the death of Cardinal Maximilian.

Hands behind his back, Cardinal Polletto glided across the polished wooden floor, head high, eyes fixed on the last room to the left. He stopped at the door and waited. The irony that Samuel could soon be his master intrigued him. He pushed the door open.

On the floor, like three bundles of clothes, lay Samuel and his brothers, huddled together in the dim candlelight. All three sat up when a creaking board unceremoniously announced the cardinal’s presence.

“Who’s there?” Samuel asked, with a command in his voice that surprised the cardinal.

Cardinal Polletto lit a few more candles, and the boys’ faces were more visible.

“Cardinal Polletto?” asked Samuel, surprised.

“Yes,” answered the cardinal, “it’s me.” Samuel stood, and slowly approached, the other boys behind him.

“You look well, Samuel,” said the cardinal. “And I understand you’ve been quite active.”

Samuel’s maturity jumped out at the cardinal. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “If you’re here, then you know why we’ve been taken.” The authority in his voice was staggering for a ten year old. The cardinal felt himself flinch.