The Guardian by Robbie Cheuvront and Erik Reed Page B

immediately began loading his things into the trunk, his hands sweating profusely. This must be the man the American agent told him about. He turned to the other man and said, “Sorry, sir, this cab already paid for.”
    “I don’t care if you’ve bought the whole
coché!”
The fat man continued. “I was here first! And unless you want me to call airport security, I suggest you get in line like the rest of us!” His English was very good. The man sounded educated.
    Jonathan leaned in close and whispered something to the fat man. Instantly the fat man’s eyes widened and he stepped back a step. The fat man looked horror-stricken. He moved out of the way and didn’t say another word. Jonathan got into the cab and waited for the driver to pull away.
    “What did you say to him?” The driver asked.
    “I asked him if he believed in the devil.”
    “What did he say?” The driver asked.
    “He said yes. I told him I
was
the devil.” Jonathan laughed. He no more believed in the devil than he did in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or God Himself. He only believed in here and now. He would take what was here and enjoy it now. Money talked with Jonathan. That was his deity.
    He didn’t care about any scroll. All he cared about was getting paid. And the cardinal did just that. Handsomely, too. Maybe this would be his last job. He had enough to go away and live like a king for the rest of his days. All he had to do was find this stupid scroll and he would be doubling that amount.
Yes
, he thought,
this might just be the last job.
    “You should not make light of
el diablo, señor.”
The driver looked hesitantly at Jonathan through the rearview mirror. “The devil, he is very powerful.”
    “Well, then it’s a good thing I don’t believe in him. Huh?” Jonathan mumbled back at the driver.
    “Sorry? What you say?” The driver asked.
    “Nothing, chief. Why don’t you just drive me to where you dropped my partner off. Okay?”
    The driver did as he was told and didn’t say another word the rest of the short drive into town. He pulled around the side of the hotel and waited for his passenger to get out. “Here you go.”
    The alley was deserted. Jonathan looked behind him to see if there were any passersby. No one. He leaned his head out the back window and moved his head around in a circle. Nobody looking out of the windows. No one out on any balconies. Very good!
    “You know, chief, my partner wasn’t entirely truthful to you.” Jonathan pulled his head back inside the cab.
    “He wasn’t?” The cab driver looked confused. “How do you mean?”
    “Well, I know he promised you another two thousand for bringing me here. But I’m afraid this is all I have for you.” Jonathan brought his arm up to rest on the back of the driver’s seat. He leveled his silenced 9mm pistol and fired off two rounds into the back of the driver’s head.

CHAPTER 11
St. Anna Cathedral
    F ather Ruiz.” Father Vin extended his hand. “I am Father Vincent Marcella. This is Anna Riley.”
    Anna shook the priest’s hand. She was a little taken aback at being in the private chambers of the priest. There were a lot of robes and Catholic artifacts hanging on the walls. It all seemed kind of spooky to her.
    Father Ruiz greeted his guests. “It’s nice to meet you, Anna, Father Vincent. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
    “We are just visiting your lovely country.” Father Vin smiled. “We thought we would take in a Mass. Your sanctuary is amazing.”
    “Thank you,” Father Ruiz humbly bowed. “It is very old. A lot of history in this place.” The priest scrunched his eyebrows and turned his attention to Anna. “Riley … I seem to recall a Riley. I think I met a Thomas Riley once.”
    “That was my grandfather,” Anna said. “He’s passed away.”
    “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t know.” Father Ruiz seemed genuinely saddened.
    “That’s actually what we came to talk to you about, Father,” Father Vin explained. “I