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Robert and Thorne reached the woods and found two bodies sprawled out in the brush, Sister Agnes Mary Paul and Father Thomas Raul, both Il Martello di Dio operatives.

They examined the bodies, searching for signs of life. Two packed cars sped up to the scene. Father Kong and Sister Isabella hoped out, ran over, and at the sight of their comrades, fell to their knees and assisted Robert and Thorne in trying to revive their friends, prayers spewing from their lips.

Ten minutes later, Robert and Thorne stood, watching Father Kong and the others work on the two for another five minutes. Exacerbated, Sister Isabella stormed over to Robert and Thorne.

“You lied to us! You promised not to try this without us! Now our friends are dead, and Samuel’s gone!” screamed Sister Isabella.

“It’s not our fault,” snapped Thorne. “They were moving Samuel when we got here. They stopped to shoot your people on the way out.

They knew they were there. We’d been made.”

“Thorne’s right,” added Robert. “We shot two men up near the castle. You can check it out.”

Father Kong, listening, stood and walked over, his hands bloody.

“What did the van look like?” he asked. Robert described as much as he could. Thorne added her piece.

Father Kong dialed his cell phone and put it out on their network. “If it shows, we’ll find it,” he said, calm and focused. He turned to the other six people who were standing near the two bodies, tears in their eyes, and directed them to search the castle and surrounding grounds. “Show us the men you killed,” said Father Kong.

The four quickly walked over to the bodies Thorne had laid out.

Father Kong and Sister Isabella knelt, prayed for the two, then examined them closely.

“I think I recognize them,” said Father Kong. “They’re mafia, but I can’t place who they work for.”

Sister Isabella adjusted the bodies face up and took pictures with a digital camera. “I’ll run these through our database,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll get a hit. If we find out who they worked for, we might be able to pick up Samuel’s trail.”

The four of them went inside the castle to help the others search for clues. Robert went upstairs to search the bedroom. The room was plain, and reminded him of a medieval jail cell. The trashcan was filled with soda cans, potato chip bags and half eaten fruit. Robert turned over the mattress. Wedged in between the box springs he pulled out a piece of folded newspaper. It was the front page of the Chicago Tribune, showing a distraught Alison Napier walking behind Donovan’s casket. A smile crept across Robert’s face. He’s still alive.

Screaming voices brought Robert out of his momentary bliss. He ran downstairs where Thorne met him.

“We have to get out!” she screamed. “The place is rigged with explosives!”

“Can we diffuse it?” he asked.

“No, I tried, it’s too late!”

Everybody ran out of the castle and sprinted across the compound.

They reached a safe distance near the woods, and turned. Nothing.

“I didn’t see a timer,” said Thorne. “It could go at anytime.”

“We’ll get to the city and notify the police anonymously,” said Father Kong, breathing hard.

They loaded the bodies in the trunks, piled in the cars and headed down the road. Sister Isabella’s cell phone rang. She put her head in her hands and cried out. “We’ll be there right away,” she said, hanging up.

She faced Father Kong. “It’s Cardinal Maximilian, he’s been stabbed.

It’s a heart wound. He’s in surgery at Salvador Mundi International Hospital. It doesn’t look good.”

Robert collapsed back into the car seat. Thorne’s face twisted with anger. A massive explosion detonated behind them. Austra Torre castle was no more.