His eyes popped open like he’d touched an electrical socket, and he started shouting, reaching for his pistol in a holster, thinking I was a threat. I hammered him with the suppressor on the end of my weapon, dropping him to the flagstone.

The aide looked at me in absolute fear. I said, “Show me the way. Right fucking now.”

He nodded and turned toward a courtyard to the right of the facade, moving slowly. I slapped the back of his head and said, “Quicker, damn it.”

We started running, going through the courtyard and entering a hallway that turned into a catacomb. We wound through marbled corridors full of tombs, side cutouts housing the corporal history of the Catholic Church. I heard noise to our front and jerked our guide behind me. He fell to the floor and started whimpering, crawling toward an alcove.

We were at a turn in the corridor, the grotto splitting left and right, the noise coming from the left. I crouched, waving Brett forward. He came abreast, kneeling next to a rope barricade protecting a casket.

Aaron came to my right, saying, “This isn’t going to play well in the press.”

I said, “Because you’re a Jew?”

“No. Because you’re a walking disaster.”

*   *   *

Jennifer and Shoshana reached the square of the Colosseum, seeing a massive amount of people milling about, some waiting to enter, others just buying souvenirs. They had nothing other than the last known location of Omar, indicating a movement toward this location, and Jennifer was beginning to believe that thought was incorrect.

Now outside of radio range, she tried to call Pike on her cell, and got no answer, which didn’t surprise her. She called Knuckles, asking for another lock-on for the phone, but he was on final approach to the airfield, forced to land. They were out of options.

She said, “We’ve got no help from the Taskforce. I don’t know what else to do.”

Shoshana said, “He’s here.”

Jennifer looked at her and saw the weird glow. She said, “Shoshana, where? Why do you think that?”

“Because he’s going to kill a lot of people. I can feel it.”

There were about two hundred souls in the square, but Shoshana began walking to the entrance with a destination in mind. Jennifer said, “Where are you going?”

“To him. He’s inside.”

“What? How do you know? Shoshana, this is crazy.”

Shoshana said nothing, entering the small alley that led to the ticket booth.

They moved forward together, Shoshana bumping people out of the way and drawing sharp comments. Jennifer apologized for her, then tried to get her to stop. She reached forward to tap her on the shoulder, and saw Omar at the same time Shoshana did. He was deep inside the line for the Colosseum, carrying a small duffel bag.

She hissed, but Shoshana was already moving, the dark angel blossoming out like tendrils of black oil dropped in water.

Jennifer grabbed her arm, saying, “Wait,” and Shoshana broke free, running flat-out through the line of people. Jennifer saw Omar turn around, saw his eyes grow wide, then him reach into the duffel bag.

She pulled her weapon, the people around her starting to react, shouting and running away. Omar held up something that looked like an Apple MagSafe adapter and pressed a button, yelling at Shoshana to stop. She did, panting, in front of him.

He said, “You take one more step, and we all die.”

Jennifer closed the distance and took a knee, aiming at his head. He said, “This is a dead man’s switch. You kill me, and it goes off.”

The crowds running away and screaming, the chaos absolute, Shoshana looked him in the eye and said, “So what now? You walk away?”

Omar smiled and said, “Yes. Exactly. I walk away carrying this bomb.”

Jennifer kept her barrel on his head and said, “No way. There will be enough police here shortly. You’re going nowhere.”

Omar looked at Shoshana and said, “She doesn’t understand the commitment. You do.” He raised the plastic device in his hand and shouted, “Tell her I will let go. Nobody needs to die.”

Shoshana said, “I warned you about your path. Someday, someone would be holding the knife on your neck. And now it’s me.”

Jennifer saw a flicker of confusion, then Omar said, “Tell her I’ll set this thing off. Tell her I’m not afraid to die. I am the Islamic State.”

Shoshana said, “Yes, I know. And I’m the one who will kill you.”

Jennifer watched Shoshana launch herself at him, wrapping his body up and forcing it on top of the duffel bag. She wrestled for the device in Omar’s hands, and Jennifer thought it was for control. It wasn’t.

Staring into Omar’s eyes, a wicked grin on her face, Shoshana pried his hand loose from the detonator.

Jennifer screamed, “No!” then dove backward, holding her hands over her head. A second later it went off, with a crack that reverberated through the ancient hall. Omar was split apart. Shoshana was launched into the air, flying across the hall and slamming into stone. She crumpled in a heap.

94

Jacob dragged the pope down the stairs, into the grotto where the Catholic saints of the past were laid to rest. He knew it exited outside the basilica, knew exactly where it went from the massive research he’d done.

He wanted to live. That’s what permeated his soul. The Islamic State had long since faded to the background. Now all that remained was escape, and he had the means to do so.

The Holy Father.

The man offered no resistance, walking forward without a fight. They passed the tombs of all the popes before, and the Holy Father spoke.

“Why do you do this? What can you get from it?”

Jacob said, “You of all people know why. You do nothing but profess goodness, and yet you perpetuate cruelty. I should kill you right now.”

“But you do not. Why is that?”

Jacob said nothing. They reached a turn in the catacombs, the light from outside spilling in, and he saw three men with weapons. He snapped back, dragging the Holy Father, the adrenaline ricocheting through him.

On his knees, the Father said, “My son, I don’t know what you have done with your life, but you will be forgiven. This isn’t the end.”

Jacob grabbed him by the neck and said, “Don’t beg for your life, old man. Don’t do that. I’ll kill you right now.”

The Holy Father looked at him, and Jacob saw nothing but pity. No fear. No pain. He said, “Kill me if you wish. It will do no good for your soul.”

Jacob said, “My soul is my own. You don’t own it, and neither does Islam.”

The Father said, “I understand. More than you know.”

Jacob gave a giddy laugh and said, “Get up. We’re moving out of here. You get your wish. You’re my salvation.”

He turned the corner and saw a man with ice-blue eyes like Omar. And the same conviction.

*   *   *

I saw the two come around the corner and wondered about my luck. How on earth could this jackass from State have led me right into the fight?

I put my sights on Jacob’s head and said the usual. “Put down your gun. This doesn’t have to end in a bad way.”

I heard “Fuck you. Let me out. I’m going right down this hall.”

Looking at Brett, I mouthed, Any ideas?

He shook his head.

Every hostage situation comes about because of one of two reasons: either they took the hostage because they intended to, for a specific purpose, or they took the hostage because something had fallen apart, like a bank robbery or liquor store holdup gone bad. I was now dealing with a hybrid. Clearly, they had intended to kill the pope, but now this guy was running with him after the fact. Like he was trying to escape. I decided I’d just wait it out. Sooner or later, the Vatican police would come charging down the catacombs.