Team Leader tried to look through the tinted windows, but could only see the faintly glowing orbs of the street lamps as they passed. “And the world will finally be divided.”
Yahweh leaned forward. “When you return to the holding ground, I want you to kill off the members of the Holy See quickly, at least one a day. Build the world into a fast and furious frenzy. Let them know the end is near.”
“You need to be patient.”
“Patience is a virtue I can’t afford. Get it done.”
Although Team Leader couldn’t see the man’s eyes, he knew Yahweh was measuring him.
The limo continued on.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Kimball Hayden had followed Shari Cohen home from the JEH Building the night before, in a sedan borrowed from Cardinal Medeiros. While Kimball tailed Shari, the rest of the Vatican Knights rested at the archdiocese.
He recognized the white Lexus and the federal tags leaving the parking garage and followed her to a leafy, upscale neighborhood north of D.C., where she lived in a two-story brownstone with wrought-iron railings leading to the double doors and a picture window that offered a perfect view of the park across the street. Often he looked at her dossier, especially at the black and white glossy photo that resembled a Hollywood headshot.
He knew he had to gain her trust, but to do that he would have to violate the trust of the Vatican. To draw her into an alliance he would have to tell her who he was and where he came from, which was against the policies of the Vatican who wished the Knights to remain anonymous. But Hayden saw no other way. If he wanted to gain the trust of Shari Cohen, he would have to tell her the truth.
He could only pray she would keep his secret.
Shari’s phone rang several times before she picked up, her hand searching blindly for the receiver. She finally lifted it from its cradle and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“They found the governor’s body.”
Shari recognized Pappandopolous’ voice. “Where?”
“At the Tidal Basin. They’re pulling the body out now.”
She shot up in bed, disturbing her husband, who raised himself onto an elbow. “I’m on my way,” she told him.
Pappandopolous hung up. Without so much as a word to Gary, she got dressed as fast as she could. Within five minutes she was hopping toward the front door, trying to put on her last shoe.
By the time Shari arrived on the scene, the governor’s body had already been pulled from the Tidal Basin. A perimeter had been established along the shoreline. Behind the tape, the police were holding the media at bay. Shari flashed her credentials, and an officer lifted the yellow strip to allow her passage.
The weather was mild, the sky blue. Before her the surface of the Tidal Basin rippled with the course of a light wind, the motion calm and soothing. But Shari noticed none of this as she made her way to the coroner’s van.
The vehicle’s rear was parked at the basin’s edge, the doors open, a sealed body bag inside. When Shari got there she badged the medical examiner.
“Show me what you’ve got.”
The examiner unzipped the body bag to expose the governor’s face.
“Single gunshot wound to the head,” he said. “By the size of the exit wound I would have to say it was a medium to large caliber. The amount of antimony, barium and lead will help us determine what type of weapon was used when we do a gunshot residue analysis.” The medical examiner pointed to the entry wound, to the burns circling the hole. “Definitely execution style,” he added. “Up close and neat. The mouth of the barrel couldn’t have been more than two inches away when it went off.” He turned to Shari. “Anything else you need to know before we get him on the table?”
Shari examined the governor’s face. It was severely swollen and unrecognizable, his skin marbled to a purple-gray. “This is the governor?”
“Yeah, it’s him all right,” he said, zipping up the bag. “We did a cursory identification through body symbols: scars, moles, and so forth. Of course we’ll leave the official ID up to the examination, but there’s no doubt in my mind that this is the governor.”
“He looks kind of… well—”
The examiner nodded, intuiting her question. “Methane gas build-up,” he answered, “which bloats the skin. There’s really nothing anomalous about it. But it’s him.” He closed the door to the van. “Anything else?”
Shari looked across the basin. “Could the water throw off the timeframe of the murder?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “The body normally cools about one-point-five degrees per hour. As cold as this water is, it’s my guess he was sent adrift to corrupt our findings. We’re really not going to be able to pinpoint a time of death with any true accuracy on this one. Hopefully we can learn more by examining trace elements, if they haven’t been washed away.”
Shari closed her eyes, her mind working. The same question kept surfacing at every turn of the investigation: why were the Soldiers of Islam sanitizing their actions when the authorities already knew their identities?
She opened her eyes. “You know who found him?”
“A jogger,” he said, pointing to the edge of the basin where a young woman wearing a spandex suit stood speaking with three officers. “The one wearing the outfit that looks like it’s been painted on.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in contact for the autopsy results.”
Shari moved through the group of CSI investigators and made her way to the water’s edge where the jogger was nervously ringing her hands. “Excuse me,” said Shari, presenting her badge, “I’m Special Agent Cohen of the FBI. I understand that you’re the one who found the body?”
She nodded. “I am.”
The three officers didn’t relinquish their territory as they stood with pens and pads in hand, scrutinizing Shari as an intruder. But after ten minutes of questioning the jogger, Shari concluded that nothing of value could be deduced from the witness and thanked her, letting the officers re-stake their claim.
She then questioned the crime scene investigators and learned that there was no perceptible sign as to when the governor’s body was set adrift. The area was clean. This brought her back to the question of why the Soldiers of Islam would leave the two bodies behind in the Governor’s Mansion, letting the world know who they were, only to turn around and cover their actions as if trying to protect their identities?
It just didn’t make sense.
After scribbling a few notes, she checked her watch.
It was time to see a man about a CD.
Kimball Hayden watched from the sidelines as Shari Cohen held a brief discussion with the medical examiner. Then, after moving on to talk to the witness and the crime scene investigators, she returned to her Lexus. Just as she was about to insert the key into the door lock, Kimball Hayden intercepted her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
As a government official, it was Yahweh’s duty to understand the enemy and its mindset. However, it truly escaped him why the enemy was so willing to surrender its life for its god, without fear or hesitation.
Was the enemy’s belief in the afterlife so strong, so rooted, that it considered the corporeal life less substantial than the spiritual one? Was the true reward death? It was amazing how cultures viewed the difference between the virtues of living and dying.
Yahweh had watched the video repeatedly. The tape made it apparent that the governor did not share the same convictions as his Arab enemies, the fear of his impending murder evident. He was clearly unwilling to die for an afterlife that he may or may not have believed in. The governor, in fact, was representative of the weak principles of faith in this country.