“But that wouldn’t make sense,” she told him. “Why tip us off to his whereabouts unless it was some kind of red herring, which would make better sense.”
“That’s why I called you,” he said. “You need to see the writing.”
Shari picked up the undertone of heavy sadness, of burden. “Punch, why are you even there to begin with?”
Another pause, lengthy, and then: “Because you know as well as I do that there’s no such thing as the perfect crime, Ms. Cohen. There is always that something that is overlooked. And I believe I may have found it.”
His burden seemed to grow with every subsequent word spoken. So she had to ask: “Are you all right?”
There was another pause, and then she could hear him sigh over the line, a sigh that was overly exhaustive. “I guess what I’m really looking for, Ms. Cohen, is closure. My team was murdered — my friends, people I’ve come to know as family, people I have come to share my privacies with. And here I am left standing with this incapability to do nothing about it.”
“We already had this discussion, Punch. It’s not your fault.” She could almost picture him feigning a smile on the other end as he spoke.
“It’s something you’ll never understand,” he told her, “unless it happens to you. And I pray that it never will. I can’t retire with this hanging over my head, Ms. Cohen. I need to close this any way possible. It’s just something I have to do. Does this make sense? To want closure on something like this?”
She didn’t have to think before answering. Everyone wanted closure for peace of mind. “Of course not,” she said.
“I don’t want to be as ‘good as I was the day before,’” he added. “I want to be a part of this and not be retired to the sidelines because the brass has lost faith in my abilities.”
“How long are you going to be there?”
“For a while,” he said. “I’m hoping this globe will lead me to something else, like the first breadcrumb in a trail of breadcrumbs. But I can’t decipher what’s written on the bottom of the base.”
“I’ll do that for you,” she said. “Keep looking, but compromise nothing. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be here,” he returned. And then he hung up, leaving her standing there with her cell phone droning in her ear.
Judas stood in the shadows of old abandoned buildings with chicken-wire windows, most of them smashed and indented with the constant pounding of thrown stones, and charged his Glock semi-automatic pistol.
The sun had fallen, and in the pool of darkness he was surrounded by members of Omega Team whose faces were concealed with grease paint. They were heavily armed and donning black military fatigues, becoming shadows within shadows, things blacker than black.
“All right, gentlemen,” said Judas, “the objective is clear. We’re here to take out Target Red. And FYI, the guy who took out half of Omega Team last night is no novice to the game. He’s ruthless. He’s deadly. And one man alone doesn’t stand a chance against him. I’m assuming he’s now a part of Cohen’s protective detail, so he’s a number-one priority for takedown. You will find them, and maintain a constant visual on both targets. You will also be in constant communication with one another through your lip mics to alert your position to supporting team members at all times. If a unit member does not respond, then I want you to assume that Target Red has compromised Omega Team. I need you to be prepared, people. I need you to keep your heads up because this guy is serious business and not to be taken lightly.”
One of the commandos charged his weapon, a testosterone gesture that he was more than ready to take on all competitors.
“Do your job, gentlemen, and you’ll all be rich men living off the coast of Belize. If not, then you’ll be keeping company with Dark Lord in whatever hole Hayden pitched him in. Happy hunting.”
Omega Team instantly gathered inside of a van of dark gray primer to blend in with the surrounding darkness, started the engine, made its way out of the complex of aged buildings, and began their journey to the interception point to take out Target Red.
When the van was out of site, Judas entered his vehicle with an agenda of his own.
Shari was displeased, if not disgusted, with the savagery behind the highly doctored video aired over CNN and other stations. There were sidebar videos of the aftermath regarding Muslim and Islamic populations being tormented, abused and harangued in predominantly Christian nations, even when devout Muslims and Islamists believed peace was the true virtue, whereas violence an abomination in the eyes of God. It was totally unfair to the sincere religious practitioners, she thought. They didn’t deserve this.
What was even worse was to show the world in chronic repetition the pope’s ordeal. Showing these pictures repetitively played into the hands of the terrorists. The media knew this, but Shari realized that macabre events such as this appeased the insatiable appetite of the public for news as entertainment.
After getting off the phone with Murdock, Shari checked her watch and couldn’t help the light stirring of anxiety creeping up like the trace of a cold finger down her spine. There was no doubt in her mind that the Force Elite was going to make a move soon, if not tonight.
Shari flipped back the screen of her cell phone and dialed a quick-dial number.
“Yeah, Shari.” It was Kimball.
“I’m leaving the building,” she told him. “Through the West End gate.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Kimball?”
“Yeah.”
“Please, stay close. I’m really scared.”
“We’re here for you,” he assured her. “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m heading to the governor’s mansion.”
“The governor’s mansion?”
“I got a call from Special Agent Murdock,” she told him. “He may have found something that would benefit our cause to find the pope. But I think it’s a red herring.”
“Be careful.”
“You think they’re following me?”
“To some degree, I’m sure. Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean that they’re not there. They’re nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Does that make sense?”
“In an odd way, yes.”
“Don’t worry. My team will be riding dark behind you. Isaiah will be wearing the NVG headgear that night pilot’s wear while flying nighttime missions. No one will see us. So if there’s anyone following you, then we’ll get them.”
“We need the insurgents alive, Kimball. I need to mine them for information.”
“Then cross your fingers and hope they’ll comply.”
Shari sighed, but there was no relief as her stomach clenched into a slick fist.
“If we’re not alone, Kimball, if they are following me, remember that this is for all the chips. So make sure they become compliant. Their death will serve us no purpose. We have to learn the location of the pope.”
“Shari, this is not a game. My team will do what they can to preserve the lives of the opposition. Preserving lives is what we do. But you have to understand that we’re working with a mentality in which there is no option other than to kill or be killed. I know the consequences if we fail, and my team knows the consequences, too. If we fail, we at least did all we could. You did all you could… Just don’t expect miracles because I don’t believe in them.”
“Kimball?”
“Yes.”
“You need to have faith.” She hung up.
Team Leader was rejuvenated and in full command after watching the video of the execution on television. Despite the progress of Shari Cohen, there was no doubt the cause waxed toward the ultimate goal to create an absolute schism between the Middle East and the rest of the world. He knew hatred, like fear, was a great motivator if used wisely. And if used wisely enough, hatred could reshape the balance of world power.