Just as the assassin predicted, the priest burst out of the alley, skidding to a halt before spinning around and sprinting in the opposite direction of the assassin. The assassin raised his gun, his steady aim trained on the back of the priest’s head.
He squeezed the trigger.
The hollow point bullet entered the back of the priest’s skull and exited through his face in a gruesome display of violence. He fell limp to the ground.
The assassin approached the lifeless body. His gloved hand reached into the priest’s back pocket to retrieve his wallet. Identifying the body had indeed once belonged to a certain Mario Marino, the assassin slipped the wallet back into the corpse’s pocket. He dragged the body into the alley and up to a pile of trash bags stacked against the alley wall, where he stuffed it in amongst the refuse. It would later be discovered by the polizia following an anonymous phone call.
In the depths of the dead-end alley, the assassin’s ears pricked up at a sound emanating from a dumpster some fifty yards down the way. With a swift glance to ensure no prying eyes were present, he smoothly drew his handgun from its shoulder holster and advanced down the alley.
As he neared the dumpster, a sudden movement alerted him—a feral cat leaping out. His reflexes, honed to a razor’s edge, responded instantly—he fired, extinguishing the cat’s life in a gruesome display against the dumpster.
“Fucking cat,” the assassin muttered, his gaze assessing the smear against the dumpster. He sheathed his weapon and pulled out his phone. His fingers deftly typed out a message on an encrypted line to the Vatican:
Package Destroyed
He sent the message. With that, the assassin melted away, his path leading him back to the Vatican, ready for his next assignment. This loose end had been neatly tied up.
PART II
Chapter 74
March 11, 2000
Rome, Italy
Five minutes earlier
With a surge of adrenaline, Mario sprinted towards the two women, screaming, “Call 1-1-2!” One of the women turned her head sharply, her eyes scanning for the source of the priest’s terror. She spotted the pursuing figure dressed in all black and pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she punched in the emergency number. Before the phone could connect, a chilling crack pierced both the phone and the woman’s skull. She crumpled to the cold pavement, a crimson river flowing from her temple. Her companion let out a shrill truncated scream before she too collapsed lifelessly beside her.
With his heart hammering in his chest, Mario dared not risk a backward glance at the gruesome execution. Terror was his fuel, the icy realization he was next on the executioner’s list propelling him forward. He swerved abruptly into a nearby alleyway and crashed into a figure whose attire mirrored his own.
“Please, you must help me!” Mario implored the stranger, his eyes wide with terror. As he scrutinized the man, he was taken aback by the striking similarity of his face. It was as if he was gazing into a mirror.
“Come with me,” the man ordered, his grip ironclad on Mario’s arm as he steered him deeper into the dead-end alley.
They ducked behind a grimy dumpster and the stench of rotting garbage filled Mario’s nostrils. The stranger, who introduced himself as Benoit, locked eyes with Mario, his gaze intense as he relayed crucial instructions. “The man chasing you is an assassin from the Vatican,” he explained in a hushed whisper. “I’m here to take your place. Stay silent, stay hidden, and you might just survive. Do you understand, Mario?” His fingers dug into Mario’s shoulders, his viselike grip ensuring the priest remained in the present and absorbed every word.
“Who are you?” Mario stammered, his mind reeling from the sudden, bizarre encounter.
“Mario! We don’t have time for questions,” Benoit snapped, his grip tightening. “Hand me your wallet. Now.”
Without protest, Mario complied, handing over his wallet.
“Take this,” Benoit commanded, extracting a card from his shirt pocket and thrusting it into Mario’s hands. “It’s your survival guide. For the next quarter of an hour, you must be a statue, a ghost. Understand?”
“Yes. Be still and silent for fifteen minutes.”
Benoit stood, his gaze drilling into Mario’s eyes. “Not a sound.”
Mario bobbed his head in affirmation, his eyes glued to the stranger garbed in priestly attire as he sprinted down the alleyway towards the street where the assassin lay in wait. Mario watched as his “twin” glanced at the assassin, then pivoted left to flee. Mario’s breath hitched as his twin’s face erupted, his body crumpling to the ground. He watched in abject horror as blood spurted from his head, staining the pavement fifty yards away.
Fourteen agonizing seconds later, the assassin sauntered up to the lifeless body. His hands coldly rifled through the twin’s back pocket and retrieved Mario’s wallet. After confirming the identity of the corpse, he slid the wallet back into the lifeless man’s pocket. Then, with a chilling nonchalance, he dragged the body behind a mound of garbage bags just inside the alley.
A stray cat emerged from the shadows behind the dumpster and brushed past Mario, causing a bottle to topple. The assassin’s head snapped towards the sound. Drawing his gun, he stalked down the alley towards the dumpster. As he neared it, gun raised, the startled cat bolted.
Pffff. The silenced gun whispered its deadly secret as it discharged; the bullet tore through the cat, splattering its innards across the dumpster.
“Fucking cat,” Alistar spat, his voice laced with annoyance. He holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell phone. His fingers danced across the buttons for a moment, followed by a definitive tap.
With a final glance at the crime scene, Alistar slid the cell phone into the inside pocket of his suit and left the alley.
Mario exhaled slowly, his heart still pounding like a drum as he watched the assassin disappear around the corner. A sense of familiarity about the malevolent hitman stirred in the depths of his memory, like a ghostly echo. He closed his eyes, his head dropping forward weighed down by the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.
Who was he? Mario wrestling with the mystery of the double who had just sacrificed his life for him. The memory of the card the doppelganger handed him flashed in his mind. With a sense of urgency, he pulled it out, his eyes scanning the instructions.
Your life is in danger. They are looking for you.
Do not trust anyone until you get to this address.
His twin had given him clear instructions: stay put for fifteen minutes. Mario would wait, then make his way to the address on the card. His mind was a battlefield, thinking of the innocent lives lost the past few hours: Roberto murdered and made to look like he’d overdosed; the prostitute who had set him up, also supposedly overdosed; two innocent women gunned down for being in the wrong place at the wrong time; this mysterious stranger, the body double, who had sacrificed his life to save Mario’s. Why was all this happening?
“It’s that damn journal,” Mario cursed quietly.
He huddled behind the dumpster, legs drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees, waiting for the agonizing fifteen minutes to pass. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had been lost in thought for more than eighteen minutes. Fear gripped him, making him hesitant to leave the safety of this makeshift haven. What would he find at that address? More death?
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he rose to his feet and peeked out around the dumpster to make sure that it was safe. Slowly, he began his cautious journey down the alleyway. As he reached the end of the alley, he couldn’t help but glance at the lifeless body of his “twin”, the pool of blood around him a grim reminder of his fate. Stepping out further, Mario looked both ways to ensure the coast was clear. Turning left, he set off in the direction of the address on the card.
Chapter 75
