The Pope’s public schedule was posted on the Internet and known months in advance. When in Rome, he usually put in two public appearances a week.
On Wednesdays, he conducted a general public audience in St. Peter’s Square, which drew tens of thousands of people. Being driven in the famous “Pope Mobile” through St. Peter’s, he was known to stop to bless various people and kiss babies before presiding over a service given in multiple languages.
On Sundays, he gave an address and a blessing from a window of the papal apartments known as the Angelus. Though not as widely attended as the general audience, the Angelus still drew thousands of tourists and the faithful.
This Sunday, though, was the last Sunday of the summer season. Because travel would take him away for many Wednesdays throughout the fall, he had decided to change things up and conduct a general public appearance.
As soon as Argento had confirmed the event via the Vatican’s website, they not only knew what the ISIS target was, but when the attack would take place.
When their helicopter landed at the heliport in the Vatican gardens, it was met by the Carabinieri’s liaison to the Holy See, as well as a man in a dark suit and tie who identified himself only as Josef.
As they were being led to a waiting Mercedes limousine, Harvath whispered, “Who’s the guy in the suit?”
“L’entità,” said Argento.
Lovett translated. “The Entity. Vatican Intelligence.”
Sliding into the vehicle, Harvath didn’t ask any further questions. It was obvious they were taking the threat very seriously.
A short drive through the immaculate gardens brought them to a large wrought-iron gate that automatically opened. Driving through, they soon came to a dramatic fountain and waterfall. Behind was a long building of cream-colored brick, its rooftop studded with satellite dishes and an enormous antenna that belonged to Vatican Radio.
“Monastery of Mater Ecclesiae,” said Argento as they approached. “It used to belong to the Vatican police. Now it houses cloistered nuns.”
The way Argento said it, it sounded as if he didn’t believe it. And based upon the arrays of satellite dishes on the roof, Harvath didn’t know if he should believe it either. It looked like a lot more was going on here than just a monastery coupled with a radio tower.
The Mercedes came to a stop moments later beneath an arched portico. Josef opened the rear door and instructed everyone to follow him. Inside, to their left, an elevator was waiting, its door open. There were no buttons, only a slot.
Once they were all in, Josef removed a keycard and inserted it. The doors closed and the elevator began to descend.
When the doors opened again, they were below ground. How many stories was anyone’s guess.
If it weren’t for the mosaic floor with the white dove of peace, a large crucifix suspended upon the far wall, and a portrait of the Pope, they could have been in any number of highly classified facilities run by the NSA, the CIA, or the FBI.
“Follow me,” Josef ordered.
They walked down a long hallway and were interrupted at one point by a group of nuns who came out a door, carrying stacks of files. Harvath managed to get a peek inside the room they had just exited and saw rows of cubicles staffed by even more nuns.
Josef kept moving.
They ended up at another, similar door, and Josef waved his keycard in front of its handle to unlock it. When the lock released, he pushed the door open and held it so that everyone could enter.
It was a war room.
There was a long conference table and several workstations. The flag of Vatican City stood in a brass stand next to a map of the world highlighting all of the Church’s holdings and interests. A blue, digital clock with six time zones ran above it. Opposite, was a large video wall surrounded by independent monitors.
Standing in the center of it all was a man dressed exactly like Josef, but a good twenty years older.
He was a tall, handsome man in his midsixties, with gray hair and green eyes. Stepping forward, he extended his hand and introduced himself simply as Carl. Whoever these guys were, they were not big on last names, or formalities.
Notepads and bottles of water had been set up at each place. There were pots of hot coffee in the center of the conference table and an espresso machine off to the side. Carl invited everyone to help themselves.
When everyone was seated, the man asked, “So. What do we have?”
Harvath let Argento do the talking, and he was kind enough to do it in English. On the rare occasion he had trouble with a word, he said it in Italian and either Lovett or Carl helped him out.
Once the ROS operative was done, Carl looked at Harvath. “I understand you protected the President of the United States at one point,” he said.
“I did,” Harvath replied.
“If you were me, what would you do with this information?”
“That depends. I don’t know exactly know who you are.”
Carl smiled. “I am in charge of protecting His Holiness and Vatican City. If I am involved, it is because a threat has been deemed substantial and very real.”
“If you’re asking what I would do, as a Secret Service officer, to protect the American President, I would cancel his public schedule. I would probably even go so far as to concoct a cover story. I’d have an ambulance arrive this evening to take him to the hospital. I’d leak to the press something about an illness or a fall.”
Harvath’s voice trailed off and the Vatican intelligence officer noticed. “But?”
“But that only postpones the attack. The weapons are here in Rome and so are the terrorists. If they are well funded, which we should believe they are, they might be able to stick it out—to wait until the Pope returns. Or . . .”
“Or what?”
“They pick another target and people still die.”
“To protect the Pope and our visitors to St. Peter’s Square, though, I would need to call everything off,” said Carl.
Harvath nodded. “But to catch the terrorists and eliminate this threat altogether, you would need to act as if everything was still on.”
The Vatican intelligence officer looked at the digital clock above the map. “I can give you eight hours. After that, we’re going to cancel His Holiness’s public schedule.”
CHAPTER 87
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For the same reason Harvath wouldn’t use the Wi-Fi at the ROS safe house in Villa San Giovanni, he didn’t want to use the Vatican intelligence service Wi-Fi either. Allies spied on each other. It was just the nature of the game.
Securing a temporary keycard from Josef, Harvath slung his backpack over his shoulder, walked back out to the elevator, and headed upstairs to use his phone.
Argento, who was dying for a smoke, joined him.