Mando Bk. 03: General Badass Ch. 01

I hug him and kiss both cheeks Italian style. "Thank you, sir. You didn't get two bullets?"    

He nods. "Yes, but they were an inch apart. That was some serious ordinance, Chief, and deadly shooting."    

A Secret Service agent asks. "Excuse me sir, I'm curious. Did you expect to be shot in the heart with an armor-piercing slug from a high-powered rifle when you agreed to double for the Pope with the possibility of being killed?

I chuckle."Yes, it was a good trade."    

He frowns. "Trade?"    

I wink again. "I was head of the largest church in the world for five minutes; it's hard to assign a value to that, even for a Jew."    

He laughs. "The few minutes before you were in the cross hairs of a sniper's rifle may have been a rush, sir, but nothing like the one those cannon balls gave you when they hit, I should think."    

The doctor comes over to talk to Gino and I. "Gentlemen, I don't understand."    

I ask, "What's to understand, Doc?"    

"You were dead. Now you're walking around like nothing happened." He motions to Gino. "And this man healed you. He brought you back from the dead, really, with nothing but healing energy of some sort. How is this possible?"    

I laugh. "Don't really know, but with him, it's a habit."    

A security specialist from the pope answers his mobile phone and offers it to me. "Excuse me, sir, but the President wants to know if you are all right."    

I take the phone. "Hello, sir. Thanks for the call. "    

"Yes, Mando, I'm delighted you are alive and well—you are well, aren't you?"    

I laugh. "Yes Sir, thanks to Falcon's healing hands." While I'm talking to the President, paramedics put the Pope on a gurney, cover him head to toe with a sheet, and sprint to the exit.    

Gino yells, "Stop!" He reaches the Pope in two strides and pulls the sheet down below his neck enough to cover the snow white area that should be bloody. "Let the world identify the body. A covered body creates questions and doubts, and cover him when you are halfway there." Covered implies he's dead. Rather than argue, they rush off the plane to the helicopter ambulance. It's the terrorists he wants to recognize the Pope. They won't claim responsibility for the death until they're convinced he's dead."    

Seven minutes later the Pope calls. His agent hands me the phone again. "His Holiness wants to speak to you, Sir."    

"Hello, your Holiness. How do you feel after getting shot, or after seeing yourself shot?"    

"Son, you are a curious creature of the Almighty. Thank you for what you did today. Was it you and Falcon that eliminated the bomb threats? I sure didn't see you do it when I watched it on Television."    

"Yes, sir. The bomber provided misdirection for us to react unseen. We expected the terrorist to be true to form and prepared for it."    

"Thank you. Please have my team bring you to the Vatican."    

"Yes, sir."    

He hangs up, and I return the phone. "Falcon, I'm ready to be Mando again. I miss him. Weird, isn't it?"    

"Chief Hawk, maybe it's time to consider retirement."    

I giggle. "Yeah boy. After all this excitement I'm shot."    

***    

An agent cranks the sound up on the TV and brings our chit-chat to a screeching halt. The commentators are beside themselves in front of us.    

"Oh, my god! An assassin shot the Pope and the U.S. President at the same time! The bullets' impact     propelled them into the men behind him with the force of a hurricane and then their agents yanked them back onto their planes. The Pope's white robe is oozing blood all around the heart! Oh. My. God! No way could they live through that! Ladies and Gentlemen, someone assassinated the Pope and President of the United States!"    

"Who fired those shots?" A commentator asks her co-host.    

"Don't know. Those bullets could have come from any of the buildings or high ground within a quarter mile. The shooters may have enough time  to disappear before authorities locate their shooting location."    

I assume this is a replay of the original broadcast because what happened ten minutes ago is being shown as if the scene is live.        

The announcers' voice drops to hushed, reverent tones. "The helicopter is landing, and stairways are being driven to both planes. Each one parks and a door on the other side opens to protect the downed leaders from additional shots. There they go. The medics are rushing down the rams and trotting to the medical choppers. Oh my god! Why would anyone want to kill the Pope? Don't they know who he works for?"    

The hushed voice resumes. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the medics are loading the bodies—um; I mean the President and the Pope into the air ambulances. Are they dead?"    

"The doors close, and the helicopter ambulance is off. Stand by, ladies and gentlemen for a report. Meanwhile, our correspondent and camera crew are en route to the hospital to keep us up to date."    

Meanwhile, the pope and president impersonators dress like Secret Service agents and ride in another chopper to the Vatican to await the Pope and President's return from the hospital. Agents whisk the regal pair to the Pope's private wing. Once the agents explain the plan to the doctors, they prepare to sneak the high profile pair out of the hospital. Donning physicians white lab coats and stethoscopes, wigs, and glasses they accompany a group of four "doctor" agents to separate plain, bulletproof vehicles. Their driver's cruise to the Vatican at legal speed without the tale-tale police escort. As a precaution, they traveled different routes and arrive at different times.

***    

    Gino and I keep out of sight in a     private room with the news channel on. As per plan, Kammy returns to the hotel.

A news anchor woman's excited voice pierces the air. "This just in from our correspondent at the Hospital." The picture focuses on two orderlies leaving the hospital. A member of the press shouts, "Excuse me, gentlemen, but are the President and Pope both in the Pope's private wing?"    

Two very sad pairs of eyes find their shoes to gain composure. After a brief pause an orderly     answers. "I don't think the Pope has a private morgue." The press shouts questions, as the pair retreats to disappear behind doors accessible by name passes only.    

***    

To the newscasters' chagrin they receive no reports or update about the assumed assassination, or confirm the implications of the orderly's words, "I don't think the Pope has a private morgue."    

 After three hours of silence, terrorists interpret the lack of information coupled with the orderly's statement as proof the deaths are being covered up. What other reason could shut the press out? Keeping the world informed is SOP in catastrophic international events. The victims must be dead.            

Six hours after the attempted double assassination, a spokesman for the Right Hand of Allah is on the air. "The Right Hand of Allah has brought glory to Allah by removing two lying western world leaders from this earth. We have destroyed your infidel church and your deceptive government. If the strongest country in the world can't protect their two most powerful men, the President, and the Pope, they are an incompetent and impotent civilization that talks big and falls fast. Allah be praised. From this day forward you shall respect the Right hand of Allah, and tremble because your country is about to experience our wrath! America, you pathetic vermin, you will fall!"    

An hour later the Pope and the President's spokesmen talk to the press.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there is still no update on the health of the US President Tom Sullivan and Pope Paul XIV. We will notify you of their condition soon. Thank you."        

Newscasters fuel the public's outrage and concern by stressing that the spokesmen didn't deny the terrorist's claims of a successful assassination.

***    

When the two assassination targets meet at the Vatican, they make light of the situation.        

"Your Holiness, now I understand the phrase, I saw myself coming and going."    

The Pope laughs. "Yes, I've experienced being beside myself, but this is the first time I've been in front and talked back to myself."    

Prior to departure from the Vatican, the President corners Gino and I. "The Pope and I insist you join us for a light lunch.    We can have lunch and talk."    

    I am reluctant for fear of too many questions. We're back to our own disguises, but too much familiarity and socializing might blow our cover. I mention it to Gino.            

He shakes his head. "It's bad manners and karma to insult the president by refusing his hospitality."    

"Right, but I have a better idea for the use of our time. We should go to the hotel so I can bounce on your cock to defuse a little tension. Good idea, right?"        

We go with the President and have lunch instead of bouncing. Damn!    

The Special Agent leading us up the ramp to the plane comments, "Gentlemen, you called that risk right on point. I figure you guys must have a death wish though, volunteering to get shot like that when you expected it to happen. Jesus! That wasn't a rifle, it was anti-aircraft artillery!"

Gino's lips stretch into a wide grin. "Good thing for us not all wishes come true. Especially death wishes."    

***    

For the news jockeys and talk show hosts, the assassination attempt is a gift from heaven. The newsrooms continue airing the reruns of the attempted murders while speculating on the chances of survival of either of the leaders.    

    "Chet, they had to be wearing body armor, and that should be of no surprise after the Vice Presidents' abduction two nights ago," one of them said.    

"No surprises at all, Sherry, but remember the blood on both leaders' chest? No armor can withstand that many rifle shots."    

"True, but let's watch both videos of the President and Pope's suicide bombers." A monitor comes to life. "This is the attack on the President. His pod truck starts high tailing toward the plane at high speed. The bomber yells, shows the bomb, and holds his hand high showing the trigger. An instant later the bombs become duds when both hand and detonation triggers fall forcefully onto the airfield landing. When each one handed heavy soldier hits solid ground, bounces once, and rolls to a stop, the secret service whisks him away.

The co-host holds up his hand. "Hold it. Freeze that frame where the bomber hits the ground."    

The picture goes back to that scene. "Good, go forward in slow-motion frame by frame." The body hits the pavement, and something pokes its nose from the man's neck. "Stop. Look at the man's body just before agents surround it. See it?"    

"By god, something is protruding from his neck!"    

"Strange, isn't it? Now do the same thing for the Pope."    

The scenes are identical. "What do you make of it, Chet?"    

"The agents reacted so fast I didn't see what happened."    

"Don't know. That is mighty strange. In fact, it's downright weird."    

"Maybe the terrorist had some kind of device the bombers could use to self-execute instead of being captured alive." Sherry wondered out loud.    

"Could be.    Terrorists are smart and thorough planners."        

"Yes, that is an undeniable fact, but what severed that hand and bomb wire? Can a bullet do that?"

"There may be some kind that can, like those miniature bolo balls connected with thin wire. I've seen pictures in sports magazines of shotgun shells filled with those instead of buckshot, Sherry. In this age of high tech, who knows what weapons and countermeasures are available to our agencies today. Whatever those agents used had to be as wide as the man's wrist. Wires between steel balls or slugs could be long enough I imagine."    

"Good point. They knew what to have on hand and both secret services were ready. Now watch the gunshots. See? The bullet hits in the heart area, the blood stains mark the spot. That appears to be multiple shots, doesn't it?    

"By golly you're right! Wow! How could anyone survive multiple high powered assaults like that? "    

"I don't see how anyone could. Maybe extra strong body armor made for situations like these stopped the bullets from complete penetration to restrict damage to a flesh wound. What do you think?"    

"Sounds good, but more like high hopes with low possibilities. I can't wait to find out."