“Yes, Cardinal. By our coordinates, he’s somewhere close to the Lion of Lucerne.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Lion of Lucerne is a sculpted monument of a mortally-wounded lion carved into the side of a stone face commemorating the Swiss Guards who were massacred in 1792 during the French Revolution when revolutionaries stormed the Tuileries Palace in Paris during the August Insurrection. When fighting broke out unexpectedly after the Royal Family had been escorted from the Palace to take refuge with the Legislative Assembly, the Swiss Guards ran low on ammunition and were soon overwhelmed by greater numbers with hundreds killed and many more massacred after their surrender. An estimated two hundred more died in prison of their wounds, or were killed during the September Massacres that followed. So in 1821, with the designing aid of Bertel Thorvaldsen, and the stone engraving completed by Lukas Ahorn, the sculpture had become a symbolic feature to the courage and testament of the Swiss Guards.
And Job was proud to have served within their ranks before becoming a Vatican Knight.
Standing six one with 180 pounds of solid but sinewy muscle, Job was the only true Vatican Knight to hale from Switzerland, whereas others had come from other walks of life. At the age of ten his father, a judge in the Federal Court of Switzerland, sentenced a major figure in organized crime to life imprisonment for convictions ranging from racketeering to murder. As a result of his ruling, he was subsequently gunned down along with his wife and three children. Job, however, did not go without punishment as two of the assassin’s bullets scored a double shot with two rounds to his back. But before he bled out, Job, or Johannes, was discovered by a nanny who quickly contacted the authorities.
And though he lived through the trauma, it was later determined to be in the best interest of the child that he falsely be declared deceased by the media in order to protect him from future vendettas.
Then, as an orphan, he was tendered the opportunity to serve in the Vatican. At the age of eleven and less than five months after the death of his family, young Johannes began his three-year study to become an altar boy. But his studies were short-lived when he caught the eye of Cardinal Bonasero, who saw in him the proclivity to be someone possessing a very particular set of skills. After falling under the cardinal’s auspices, he was then directed to follow the tutelage of Kimball Hayden and to serve in the glory of the Church as a Vatican Knight. But as Johannes became a young man and having been born in Switzerland, he found another calling to serve in the Swiss Guard. And he was granted that privilege, only to be incorporated into one of the most skilled fighting fraternities in the world once his calling as a guard concluded.
And fighting had become a constant way of life — sometimes protecting the Church and its citizenry to the point of bone weariness. So as a measure against battle fatigue, a Vatican Knight was granted a short sabbatical to get away and commune with nature, with life, to explore his inner self through faith and God, and to find inner peace.
Right now, Johannes Eicher was in complete harmony as he sat beneath a cerulean blue sky on a bench facing the Lion of Lucerne, admiring the smooth contours and exceptional detail of the sculpture.
As he sat there a whisper of a breeze brushed against his skin like a sigh, a gentle massage.
And nothing could be better.
“Brother Job?”
Job started. To be called Job within the circles of the Church was one thing. To be called Job in his township when his true name was Johannes Eicher was another. The covert moniker of a Vatican Knight is always kept sacred and close to the vest.
Two men dressed in dark, matching trench coats approached him, their hands deep in the pockets. Both sported clean haircuts and faces so smoothly shaven they appeared waxy. Around their necks they wore the pristine white bands of the cleric’s collar.
“I’m sorry,” said Job. “Do I know you?”
The taller of the two feigned a smile and pulled his credentials from his pocket, a flipside wallet, and showed Job his ID card.
The Servizio Informazione del Vaticano, the SIV.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Brother Job,” the man said, “I know you’re on sabbatical, but the matter we bring you is of dire urgency.”
“I was assured by the pope that my time alone would not be interrupted. I have another five days.”
“But the message we bring you is from Pope Pius himself.”
Job leaned forward with his hands clasped together in an attitude of prayer, and eyed the Lion of Lucerne. “I know,” he said, deeply saddened. “He’s quite ill.”
“His illness is not the urgency we speak of.”
Job cocked his head. “Then why are you here?”
The smaller of the two took a step forward. “You know of us?” he asked. “About the SIV and what we do?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then you know we’re held to a higher standard when it comes to keeping the secrets of the Vatican.”
Job never took his eyes off the sculpture. “With all due respect…” He purposely let his words trail in a way to goad the SIV official to offer his name.
“Monsignor Gianicomo,” he returned.
“With all due respect, Monsignor Gianicomo, what is it you’re trying to tell me?” Job turned away from the lion and met the monsignor’s eyes with a steely gaze. “Please.”
“As agents of the Servizio Informazione del Vaticano, it is our sworn and noble duty to maintain all that is confidential and holy from the truth of the Shroud of Turin to the reality of the Third Secret. It is also our duty to know about the Vatican Knights and provide assistance when necessary.”
Job was taken aback but refused to show it, his features unmoving. He was led to believe that the Vatican Knights were deeply entrenched as a black op group known only by the Society of Seven — a complement made up of the pope’s six closest allegiances, with Pius serving as the seventh and supreme member.
But surprisingly enough, this wasn’t the case.
The monsignor, however, could still decipher the warrior’s thoughts. “We have always known about the Vatican Knights,” he added. “Loyalty above all else, except Honor. It is also the creed of the SIV.”
Job stood. And the man took a step back.
“You said the pope has asked for my services.”
The man nodded. “He and Cardinal Vessucci have asked us to find you.”
“And how did you find me?”
“We triangulated your position through the GPS in your cell phone,” he said.
Job winced. Of course! It was such a simple method with today’s technology.
And then with a calm but unmitigated authority in his voice, he said, “In the services of my pontiff, I gladly surrender my sabbatical.”
The monsignor offered a smile, showing rolls of ruler-straight teeth. “Thank you, Job.”
“Now tell me what it is that my services are needed for.”
As they headed back to Job’s hostel, Job was flanked by the clergy as they walked across the covered bridges that spanned the waterways, Monsignor Gianicomo gesticulated fervently as he waved his hands with a conductor’s enthusiasm to affect his points.
He spoke of Kimball when he was a member of the Pieces of Eight with the American government, and whose members were now being killed off by someone who was levels above any assassin they had ever seen before.
— Kimball can handle himself—
— Not this time. The assassin made it clear he could have killed him easily but chose to wait—
Job listened intently, the features of his face going from stoic to concern; the way his brows above the bridge of his nose dipped sharply downward and the way he began to chew the inner side of his cheek — always a nervous habit.