Pandora's Box: Book 3 of the Crystal Raven Series

Vatican City was still a hub of activity. Many news networks and newspapers from around the world had reporters in Rome as the election of a new pope moved into its fourth day. Outside of the College of Cardinals matters were equally as contentious, and between the media and the host of the curious, the Swiss Guard found themselves under siege in their own barracks. On the first day of deliberations, Cardinal Ridler’s aide was kidnapped, and a second list of candidates for pope turned up. Cardinal Wright’s name was noticeably absent on this one, and the name of the African cardinal was scratched out, but of course, nothing more sinister than his death could have motivated that.

Oberst Gersbach sat in his office, listening to the reverberation of the heated words his last visitor had left behind. His decision to move the other aides into protective custody, scattering them throughout a dozen safe houses, had not been popular. Especially as two of them were serving as part of the Particular Congregation, the council that ran the Church government during the interim - the Cardinal Camerlengo and the three Cardinal Assistants, a Cardinal-Bishop, a Cardinal-Priest, and a Cardinal-Deacon. Someone was exerting undue influence on the election of this pope, and the Church could not afford to let anything taint the election. It was up to Oberst Gersbach, and his Swiss Guard’s to ensure it did not happen.

The murder investigation was bogged down and growing cold. His force had sent in a request to Interpol for information on the Brotherhood, but until the assassination of the last pope, no one had ever heard of them. Worse, any efforts he or his men made to learn anything from the Church- and he suspected they were once part of this ancient organization – met with a stonewall. The Church was known for keeping its secrets. Some, those written and hidden in its archives, waited out the century to be revealed. Others, passed on orally only to a select few, could die with these few – sealed by the grave, so to speak. This one was one of the latter.

Sealed by the confessional was the usual headache he and his force met. This went beyond that. It was not merely that they were hiding something, many of them outright denied the Brotherhood’s existence. And as much as pinning the recent murder and kidnapping on this quasi-terrorist group sat well with him, his gut told him both had something to do with the election of the current pope and not the death of his predecessor. Excommunicated as the Brotherhood were, they could have nothing to gain by influencing the election of this pope. That rift would be a long time in healing.

Unfortunately, every one of his suspects was currently locked away with the College Cardinals. Two lists of them. Several names were on both lists, but Oberst Gersbach wondered if the names that were not on that second list was more telling. This whole disaster was a throwback to the bad old days when feuding Italian families fought for the position of pope, and rival candidates poisoned or even had each other assassinated. How had things gotten this bad this quickly?

Oberst Gersbach closed up the file and rose with a sigh. Tomorrow was another day. He looked at his watch and frowned. He had promised his wife he would be home early. It was his youngest child’s birthday, and while she would soon forgive him, his seven-year-old son would not. If he left now, he could get home before his wife served their meal, even with the increased traffic because of the crowds drawn to Rome to witness the election of a pope. And if he made it for dinner, before the cake was served and the presents opened, his son would never remember he had not made it home early.

Outside, in a gated staff parking lot, he found his car and driver waiting for him. Some perks were easier to get used to, and being able to look over case notes while someone else dealt with rush hour traffic twice a day was one of them. He had brought two reports with him, the ballistics report from the assassination of Cardinal Ndiaye, and a report detailing the disappearance of Cardinal Wright’s three aides. He read them both now with an eye towards establishing a timeline to determine who had been kidnapped first – Cardinal Wright’s or Cardinal Ridler’s aides – and the connection if any, of the kidnappings to the assassination. Of course, like the assassination of the Pope, neither crime necessarily had to be connected merely because it fit with his sense of order.

The truck slamming into the side of the car took both passenger and driver by surprise. His driver-cum-bodyguard was fighting to control the car with one hand, having drawn his weapon. He had seen something poking out of the window of the truck that looked suspiciously like the barrel of a rifle. It was all the warning Oberst Gersbach had as bullets stitched the bulletproof glass of his window. Ducking by instinct, if not need, he drew his own pistol. It became a high-speed chase between two heavily damaged vehicles through rush hour traffic of downtown Rome. Oberst Gersbach had his radio out and was requesting back-up from both his own people and the Italian police.

Bullets stitched the blacktop and the rear bumper as their pursuers aimed for their tires. Bits of tar and stone pinged off the rear quarter panel, bullets of the trunk and bumper. The driver brought both hands to the wheel as he swerved to avoid another car, sending it skidding into the far lane. The sounds of the collision barely registered as a rocket slammed into the road ahead of them. The heavy armour and bulletproof glass meant little against a weapon like that. Shit was getting a little too real, and in the midst of this chase of his life, his wife’s ringtone filled the car.

Oberst Gersbach did not know whether to laugh or cry. More bullets stitched the trunk and rear window, and while it was pitting, so far, it was holding up against the punishment. If a rocket hit it now, it would be like a knife through tissue paper. He was glad for the extra expense of this vehicle now and could not imagine what had possessed him to protest against its purchase all those years ago. Yes, his force needed to recruit and upgrade, but at this moment, the armoured cars seemed to be the best investment for the money. Especially now that it was the only thing separating him from life and a violent death.

The only problem as he now saw it was that they could not return fire while the windows were up. He felt useless, but every time he thought about lowering one of the windows, bullets stitched across its surface as if these deadly bits of led were reading his mind. The sound of sirens filled the night, and his driver, a well-trained agent, steered a path towards them. That way led reinforcements, and soon enough, their numbers would scare off the would-be assassins. As the car spun around one more corner, bringing a wave of police cars into view, their pursuers continued on straight. The chase was over, at least for these two.

Oberst Gersbach picked up his cell and called his wife to tell her he would be late. How late? Given the jurisdictional headaches this incident had generated, God himself couldn’t say.

The next morning Oberst Gersbach returned to his office under police escort. A team of four officers had spent the night watching the front and rear of his house. No further attempts had been made on him, and the moment he reached his office, he found out why. During the night, a copy of the list of safe houses had been stolen, as he knew it would. That was why they had moved the cardinals’ aides to a safe house that did not belong to the Vatican or the Swiss Guard. The only ones waiting at the other eight were teams of highly trained agents.

The terrorists had chosen a chalet in the German Alps near Moosburg as their target…

Nestled in a wooded valley, the chalet had once belonged to an infamous Nazi before it had been secretly purchased from the family by agents of the Vatican. Originally acquired as a retreat, a place senior Vatican staff could relax or recuperate away from the pressures of the Vatican and the media attention, it quickly became a safe house and the site of secret meetings. Many of the Vatican leaders were older men with health issues, and its isolation, far from immediate medical attention, soon ruled out its use as a convalescent home. In the last decade, there had been a lot of talk about selling it, given the Vatican’s deteriorating financial position, but the many committees which oversaw its budget and properties had never come to a satisfactory agreement.

As the sky darkened towards evening and the agents inside settled in for the night, dark figures crept out of the forest. Six of them led by the Shadow Slayer, they crept in from two sides – towards the rear and the east side of the house, where the shadows were darkest. Slowly melding into the darkness, they crept closer to the chalet, watching the movements of its occupants. Two guards were circling the perimeter of the building. Neither saw it coming as the Shadow Slayer slit the throats of their shadows. What mortal ever thought to protect a mere reflection of their physical self? Their bodies dropped soundlessly, their last breaths bubbling the blood at their ruined throats, unable to give warning.

A vampyre leapt through the glass doors of the deck, guns blazing. Bullets flew in both directions. One of the Swiss Guard emptied his clip point-blank. His assailant absorbed all twelve shots before turning and blowing the top of his head off. The other agents retreated towards the front of the house and the safe room, exchanging furious gunfire. Later, the report would read that over three hundred rounds were expended. Only one of the vampyres would die when he caught a shotgun blast in the throat, carrying off his head, but he would leave no body. Nor would either side make the slightest effort to clean up their brass. This was open warfare.

Still firing at the intruders, those from within the house fought a furious retreat. A brief standoff ensued between the five attackers and the three surviving Swiss guards. As the door of the safe room closed, one more of the agents went down, his throat cut by some unknown weapon. Forensic investigators from three countries would spend hours trying to recreate the wound without success.

The assailants searched the house and the bodies for their target. Neither of the two who had reached the safe room alive was the man they were looking for, and he was not amongst the dead. It had been a trap that had backfired on its setters. In total, six were dead, and while they had lost one of their number and two were wounded, both would be fully recovered after two weeks rest and a good feeding. And there was definitely enough blood. Both were currently crouched over bodies, teeth sank into the neck of the recently dead, draining both corpses dry.

The lack of blood in the two bodies would not cross Oberst Gersbach’s desk until late in the day. In the meantime, their killers had disappeared into the night. It was not the only abnormality in the autopsy reports. Three of his agents had had their throats slit by what looked like a set of claws. Forensic scientists were still trying to create a mould of the weapon. Worse, the crime scene reconstruction and the statements of the two surviving witnesses did not match any known weapon. Nor did a set of claws make sense, not with the death of the third man, who had to have been killed at a distance. None of the attackers had gotten close to the safe room door before it was shut.

Oberst Gersbach did not know what to make of reports that the attackers had taken multiple gunshot wounds without going down. Blood work from the scene seemed to confirm that some of the attackers had to be wounded, but the labs were unable to type it or even confirm that it was human. All he was willing to accept at the moment was some sort of body armour, some new type of Kevlar filled with an unknown fluid, and that gave his investigators somewhere to start. Companies who made that grade of body armour had few customers – various state armies or police tactical teams. Tracing lost or stolen equipment should be easy unless they were dealing with some private security force.

It was time to move their protectees again.