Papal Justice by CG Cooper Page A

English. Trent didn’t know what he’d expected, maybe a bunch of guys speaking Latin or Italian, not a mix of nationalities who looked more like an international SWAT team.
    The last man to introduce himself was the shortest of the four and obviously Hispanic.
    “I am Brother Fernando.”
    “It’s a pleasure meeting you,” Cal said, taking the time to look each man in the eye.
    Trent wondered if Cal was thinking the same thing he was. The Jefferson Group had brought twelve men and had just as many in support back in Charlottesville. The Pope had sent four men. Only four men! Trent hoped that either the situation had improved or that there were more monks stashed somewhere nearby.
    “As we discussed over the phone, Father Pietro should be arriving soon. He is understandably anxious to be under our protection,” Brother Hendrik said.
    MSgt Trent had discussed this Father Pietro with Gaucho. Both men wondered where the priest was hiding. If the poor guy had any sense, he’d probably been hiding in the darkest hole he could find. Gaucho said there were plenty of those in Acapulco, depending on how much money you had.
    “My guys are getting things ready upstairs. Should we go up and talk?”
    Brother Hendrik nodded and motioned for his fellow monks to lead the way. Once the four had left the room, Trent pulled Cal aside.
    “I swear, Cal, when I heard that chanting, I thought you were having the rest of the boys sworn in as Catholics.”
    Cal chuckled. “You should’ve seen the look on Daniel’s face when we came in. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so surprised.”
    “Can you blame him?”
    Cal shook his head and let out another quiet laugh. “I’m just worried that he’ll decide to go back to Rome with them.”
    Trent and Gaucho looked at each other and then laughed with Cal. While Daniel was as spiritual a man as Trent had ever met, the massive Marine knew there was no way Snake Eyes could be torn from Cal’s side.
    “Come on,” said Cal, clapping Trent on the back. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
     
    +++
     
    Father Pietro shivered despite the oppressive heat inside the battered taxi cab. The steam and his passenger’s unease didn’t seem to faze the driver. He putted along like he didn’t have a care in the world, as if this fare was supposed to last the rest of the day. The priest wished the man would press the gas pedal to the floor. The jarring ride into the hills already felt like it was taking hours. Father Pietro chided himself for not bringing a fresh supply of alcohol. At least that could have calmed his nerves.
    But he wanted to make a good first impression in front of Luca’s men. He had no idea what they would be like, and Luca had only told him when and where to be. It was just like his old friend to be cautious. That fact did not make his nerves rattle any gentler. The days of hiding had taken their toll. When he’d looked in the mirror after a much needed shower earlier that day, the priest wasn’t surprised to see a haggard face that spoke of the fear that even now shook his body.
    It wasn’t like the old days when he’d laughed in the face of danger. This was different. There was something bigger happening. He could feel it, like an invading army marching over the horizon, stomping closer with each passing day. The days had given him time to think, but his thoughts always drifted to what he’d seen and what he’d done on that fateful night. Somehow, through the fear and drunken bouts, he’d found new clothing, and had even found shelter with a beggar who offered a place next to him under a crumbling bridge. It was the man’s home, along with the ever-present ring of stray cats that shared his food and his bed.
    He’d said a silent prayer for the man when waving goodbye. It spoke of the man’s character that he had opened his arms and welcomed him without hesitation. This was a man who had nothing, who lived in the worst of conditions, who barely scraped