nine will know. If the Council honors the Concordat, and keeps quiet about the attack, that makes it a secret that could potentially ruin us.”
“They’re all sworn Templars,” the Marshall shot back.
“Sworn Templars? I don’t care if they tap dance naked on Lake Lucerne. All the Hashashin or the CIA or the KGB has to do is grab someone. I don’t care if they’re sworn Templars or not. Shoot them up with that new joy juice, and they’ll blurt out everything, everything they know, chapter and verse. They’ll sing like castrated canaries.”
The Marshall shrugged.
“And you know all this. Don’t waste my time. That’s why you want to send Callahan to help Mancini. So we don’t have to let anyone else in on this. Callahan knows, so Callahan goes. Right?”
“Great minds think alike.” The Marshall spread his fingers and studied his hands. “And I’ll even grant you Callahan’s not the best. He’s not a Steinhaus or a Creole. But he is very good. Besides, what choice do we have? I think both of us know what the Council will decide.”
“Steinhaus or Creole?” the Master said. “If we were talking about them, I wouldn’t have as much of a problem. But we’re not talking about them, are we? We’re talking sending Callahan down there.”
“Good point, good point,” said the Marshall. “But let’s not forget it was Steinhaus who recruited Callahan away from the Americans. I always said Steinhaus had good judgment.”
“Go to hell.”
The Master pointed to the laptop. “Who has heard this thing? Anyone else? Code clerks? Programmers?”
“It came directly to me, and I decoded it myself. The other stuff they got from Rashid? That came in through normal channels. I’m the only one who got the Vatican stuff.” He gave an evil grin. “Thank God for Callahan’s good judgment.”
“Crap.”
“So, do we send Callahan to keep Mancini company?” The Marshall stood up. “And do we let him tell Mancini what he knows?”
The Master got up and stared out the windows at the mountains. Now, why wasn’t he up there at his cabin and not here?
He gave a hard spin to the old globe that showed the boundaries of the world prior to World War I, and turned back to the Marshall. “Anyone with half a brain in the Vatican knows they are under a threat of attack from Al Qaeda. They probably don’t know about the Hashashin, but an attack is still an attack. I guess they just do what little they can with that idiot Pope in charge. The message from Callahan and Marie says there will be an attack. That’s not news. But it says it’s imminent and the countdown has started, soon enough that Rashid Al Bashar was being recalled for the new phase of the struggle. That is news. Big news.”
He turned back to the globe and waited until it stopped turning on the well-oiled bearings. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the other side of the globe and looked across it at the Marshall. “Callahan can tell Mancini there will be an attack, that he found that message. They know that. But he cannot tell them it will be soon. He can’t let Mancini or anyone else know. The Council can always overrule me on that. In some ways I wish they would. It meets in two days.”
Zurich - Wednesday, March 18
The Master’s secretary said, “Sir, I have the Chief Archivist.”
Great, thought the Master. Just what I need now.
“Hello, Patrick, how are you today?”
“How am I, my ass. When did you ever give a shit? We’re in the shitter and we have to talk.”
“Can it wait?” asked the Master. “We’re busy with a few things now. Maybe you noticed, things like…”
“Sure, it can wait,” the Archivist cut him off, “and the longer we wait, the deeper we sink into the shitter. We can wait if I can stand on your shoulders. You best pay attention here. When’s the last time I called you and said we were in the shitter?”
“You never did.”
“Well then you better pay attention, don’t
“They’re all sworn Templars,” the Marshall shot back.
“Sworn Templars? I don’t care if they tap dance naked on Lake Lucerne. All the Hashashin or the CIA or the KGB has to do is grab someone. I don’t care if they’re sworn Templars or not. Shoot them up with that new joy juice, and they’ll blurt out everything, everything they know, chapter and verse. They’ll sing like castrated canaries.”
The Marshall shrugged.
“And you know all this. Don’t waste my time. That’s why you want to send Callahan to help Mancini. So we don’t have to let anyone else in on this. Callahan knows, so Callahan goes. Right?”
“Great minds think alike.” The Marshall spread his fingers and studied his hands. “And I’ll even grant you Callahan’s not the best. He’s not a Steinhaus or a Creole. But he is very good. Besides, what choice do we have? I think both of us know what the Council will decide.”
“Steinhaus or Creole?” the Master said. “If we were talking about them, I wouldn’t have as much of a problem. But we’re not talking about them, are we? We’re talking sending Callahan down there.”
“Good point, good point,” said the Marshall. “But let’s not forget it was Steinhaus who recruited Callahan away from the Americans. I always said Steinhaus had good judgment.”
“Go to hell.”
The Master pointed to the laptop. “Who has heard this thing? Anyone else? Code clerks? Programmers?”
“It came directly to me, and I decoded it myself. The other stuff they got from Rashid? That came in through normal channels. I’m the only one who got the Vatican stuff.” He gave an evil grin. “Thank God for Callahan’s good judgment.”
“Crap.”
“So, do we send Callahan to keep Mancini company?” The Marshall stood up. “And do we let him tell Mancini what he knows?”
The Master got up and stared out the windows at the mountains. Now, why wasn’t he up there at his cabin and not here?
He gave a hard spin to the old globe that showed the boundaries of the world prior to World War I, and turned back to the Marshall. “Anyone with half a brain in the Vatican knows they are under a threat of attack from Al Qaeda. They probably don’t know about the Hashashin, but an attack is still an attack. I guess they just do what little they can with that idiot Pope in charge. The message from Callahan and Marie says there will be an attack. That’s not news. But it says it’s imminent and the countdown has started, soon enough that Rashid Al Bashar was being recalled for the new phase of the struggle. That is news. Big news.”
He turned back to the globe and waited until it stopped turning on the well-oiled bearings. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the other side of the globe and looked across it at the Marshall. “Callahan can tell Mancini there will be an attack, that he found that message. They know that. But he cannot tell them it will be soon. He can’t let Mancini or anyone else know. The Council can always overrule me on that. In some ways I wish they would. It meets in two days.”
Zurich - Wednesday, March 18
The Master’s secretary said, “Sir, I have the Chief Archivist.”
Great, thought the Master. Just what I need now.
“Hello, Patrick, how are you today?”
“How am I, my ass. When did you ever give a shit? We’re in the shitter and we have to talk.”
“Can it wait?” asked the Master. “We’re busy with a few things now. Maybe you noticed, things like…”
“Sure, it can wait,” the Archivist cut him off, “and the longer we wait, the deeper we sink into the shitter. We can wait if I can stand on your shoulders. You best pay attention here. When’s the last time I called you and said we were in the shitter?”
“You never did.”
“Well then you better pay attention, don’t
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