Papal Justice Read Free Page A

See!”
    Gabriel squatted down to the ground and jumped as high as he could. The solder turned around again. There was something in his eyes. Compassion, maybe?
    “If you really want to do what I do, enlist in the army, and prove yourself.”
    “But how do I—”
    The soldier cut him off with the shake of his head.
    “You’ll have to figure the rest out on your own. If you want it, you’ll figure it out.”
    And the soldier had been right. With a renewed sense of purpose, Gabriel edged by with his grades and managed to graduate. The same day he went to the local army recruiting station and enlisted. It would be three long years of trials and training before he would get to the elite special forces unit of the 9 th Parachute Assault Regiment (also known as Col. Moschin, or “Moschin Hill”), and their recently formed anti-terror squad. It was a natural fit for the young Italian, and soon he was leading his own secret raids across Italy.
    But he didn’t want to think about those now. He’d lost himself in that world, and was afraid that he’d somehow get sucked back in. The hate and violence were no longer who he was, except in his nightmares.
    Father Pietro shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. What he needed was time. Time to think. Time to come up with a plan. Time to somehow get out of Mexico. Then an idea came to him.
    “Ignacio, may I use your phone?”
    “Yes, Father.”
    Ignacio set his cell phone on the bar and slid it down to the priest. Father Pietro scooped it up and said, “Do you mind if I take it outside? Just for a moment.”
    The owner waved him to the door and went back to his work.
    Father Pietro dialed the number from memory, a long ago promise for aid giving him hope for the first time that night. He waited through two rings, then a third. Maybe he’d dialed wrong? Maybe his old friend was no longer alive? Maybe…
    Just when his hope seemed as if it would fade into the night, someone answered.
    “Yes?”
    Despite the one word answer, Father Pietro recognized the raspy voice immediately.
    “My friend, I need your help,” Pietro whispered.
    “Gabriel?”
    The priest almost didn’t answer.
    “Yes, it’s me.”
    A grunt and a chain smoker’s wet cough came through the phone before the voice replied, “Tell me how I can help.”
     
     
     
     

Chapter 3
     
    The Vatican
    Rome, Italy
    10:49am, March 11 th
     
     
    The Pope stepped into the private waiting room without his normal retinue. His snow white cassock swept over the threshold, and all five robed men in the room went to their knees.
    “Rise, my most cherished brothers. Please.”
    One by one they rose, taking their cues from the smallest form in front, a hunched man in a brown monk’s robe. His eyes glistened when he looked up.
    “Holy Father,” the monk said, punctuated by a wet cough.
    The pontiff embraced the old man and whispered into his ear, “I see time is catching up with you as well, old friend. We are a long way from our running days in Argentina.”
    The man nodded and stifled another cough. “I apologize for disturbing you, Holy Father.”
    The Pope smiled and waved the apology away. “Who better than a beloved friend to excuse me from the babbling of Vatican accountants?” He chuckled but his eyes were searching the old man’s face. He waved the five visitors into seats at a simple round wooden table. “Now, why was it you wanted to see me?”
    The head of the Brotherhood of St. Longinus clasped his hands in his lap, his eyes hard, like he’d just remembered who he was.
    “Holy Father, word has reached me that there was an attack against one of our parishes in Mexico.”
    “I hadn’t heard.” The Pope’s face scrunched in concern. He leaned closer, putting both hands on the table.
    “The news will most likely come to your attention soon.”
    “And how do you know of this attack?”
    The hunched form shrugged. “I received a call from an old friend, someone who helped me in the