Which means “they” were at the ceremony. But how? How on earth could they assume the identities of a complete church group? Didn’t any of them ever call home? Email?

I said, “Tell Retro I need Kurt on the line right fucking now. Call my cell or give me a number to call him secure. Tell him to get ready to mobilize whatever assets we have in Italy. Everyone else, pack your shit. We’re leaving for the Vatican in thirty seconds.”

Shoshana said, “Omar’s getting away. He’s going to kill a great many people. Let me go. I’m no use at the Vatican.”

I looked at her and saw a flicker of the dark angel. Jennifer said, “Kurt’s calling in two minutes. He’s up to speed.”

Shoshana said, “Let. Me. Go.”

I said, “Brett, call Knuckles. See if he still has the phone.”

He got on the radio and I said, “I let you go, you just identify, like last time. You call me and we’ll sort it out.”

She shook her head and said, “No, this isn’t like last time. You won’t be able to respond.”

Brett said, “He’s still got the phone. It’s still moving north. Moving slowly.”

“How far?”

“Off of the island and into Rome proper. Maybe twenty minutes to the Colosseum. Knuckles says that was their last pass. Air traffic control is telling them to get out of Rome’s airspace.”

My phone rang and Kurt was on it. He said, “Please tell me this is just a bad rumor. I’ve got the Council shitting bricks. I told them about a possible assassination attempt of the pope, and now I can’t give them enough information.”

“It’s not a rumor. I believe the Lost Boys have infiltrated a ceremony and are now going to kill the pope. I need massive assistance. I need you to tell them to shut the ceremony down, and I need someone to facilitate my entry.”

I heard him start shouting orders, then he said, “I’m getting the word to them right now, but there’s no way they’ll shut down the ceremony based on a threat. This is like the State of the Union for them. We’d never pull the president because of a threat.”

“Then get me in! The ceremony is locked down, and I can’t get access waving guns. It’s in the heart of Vatican City.”

“We have no assets in Vatican City. We’re going to have to rely on liaison. We’ll get the word to them, but that’s the best we can do. We have the names of the church group, and we know the plan.”

“Bullshit. Get me in. Those mug shots are worthless. We’re the only people that know what the Lost Boys look like, and it’ll take forever to sort through the BS to get an alert to his personal security. You only send a bulletin over the wire, and the pope is dead.”

“Pike, I know the risk, but I can’t magic you inside.”

“Don’t we have an embassy there? The US ambassador for the Vatican will be at that ceremony. Get the president to get his ass on the line. Tell him to meet me at Saint Peter’s Square.”

He said, “Okay, okay, yeah, that might work. I’ll start making calls.” Someone in the background said something and he turned from the phone. When he came back he said, “The damn ceremony’s being live-streamed. The pope’s about to get murdered on global Internet. Get going. I’ll call with the linkup.”

I hung up and said, “Get ready to load up. Jennifer, go get the vehicle.”

Shoshana said, “What about Omar?”

“He’s a secondary consideration. I can’t do both.”

“Yes, you can.”

“We don’t even know if he’s doing something bad. He may just be escaping the city since he’s set his plan in motion.”

Jennifer said, “I’ll go with her. We’ll take Omar; you guys head to the Vatican.”

I paused, and Aaron looked at Shoshana. He said, “Let her go.”

I relented. “Okay. You two identify Omar, then call.” I looked squarely at Shoshana and said, “Track him only.”

The angel flickered in the background. She said, “That’ll depend on him.”

I felt Jennifer waiting on me like last night. Waiting on me to force Shoshana to say the words. To commit to no killing. Shoshana was boring into me like she had in the past. I felt the connection, the same yearning I held to kill the evil in the world, and it was enough.

I nodded. “So be it.”

Jennifer’s mouth fell open, and I saw the darkness blossom in Shoshana until it consumed her. What her country had recognized early in her youth, and what she now abhorred, she was yet again. A perfect killing machine.

She smiled, showing teeth but no joy, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll wash my hands before our date, Nephilim.”

And she slipped out the door without looking back.

Jennifer looked at me in shock, saying, “You know what she’s going to do, right?”

I said, “Yeah. Go help her.”

89

After the passport check the Lost Boys went to another metal detector, where another robotic man wearing sunglasses said, “Do you have a cell phone, camera, or digital device? iPod?”

Jacob said no, but Carlos and Devon handed their phones over. He punched the home key of each, then flicked the screen left and right, spending about five seconds with them before putting the phones on the belt of an X-ray machine.

He waved Jacob forward, and they proceeded once again through another metal detector. Jacob struggled to keep his face neutral, feeling the itch to run. He kept his eyes on the man running the X-ray machine, waiting to see if he leaned forward or ran the belt back again. He did not.

Carlos and Devon passed through the detector unscathed. As they waited on the phones, Jacob asked Father Brimm, “Who are those guys?”

“Swiss Guards. They’ve protected the Holy Father for centuries.”

“You mean the guys who wear the old-timey uniforms we saw in the front?”

Father Brimm smiled and said, “Yes, the same organization, but these guys are definitely not a ceremonial function. They’re everywhere in here, along with the Gendarmeria, ever since someone tried to kill His Holiness in the eighties.”

Jacob knew as much as a civilian could on the pope’s protective detail, having studied it for hours on the Internet in Istanbul. He knew the Swiss Guards protected the right of the Holy Father and the Vatican police—the Gendarmeria—his left. He knew the counterterrorist abilities, the explosives expertise, and had studied every single attack a sitting Pope had experienced in the twentieth century. He knew what he was about to face, but he feigned innocence.

“Why would someone try to kill the pope?”

For the first time, Father Brimm said something profound. “Some on this earth care only about destruction. It makes them what they are, and they can elevate themselves only by destroying what others see as good.”

Jacob studied Father Brimm, seeing that he truly believed it. He wondered how naïve the man could be, but remembered the priest had never witnessed the white house. Had never experienced what someone he called “good,” cloaked behind the mantle of a Christian school, could do.

But that didn’t explain the massive crowd of people, all here to celebrate the canonization by the Holy Father. Plenty were Arabic, and they’d suffered mightily because of their religion in the land they lived within, and yet all were peaceful. No slogans of death, no demanding slaughter for the injustice.

No circle of men on their knees.

He realized he’d never seen an Islamic State ceremony that didn’t involve death. He shook the thought from his head. The crowds celebrating here were no better than the ones in the Islamic State. The difference was men like Omar told you up front what was expected, and then delivered the punishment in public. They didn’t hide it under a cloak, lying about why it was your turn to go to the white house. And yet Father Brimm’s words held a power, if only because of his conviction.

The phones came through, Carlos and Devon snatching them up, and, as planned, Devon said, “How long is the ceremony?”