Greg Kinnon was everybody’s idea of an amazing person. He was of exceptional intelligence, had excelled academically and possessed great athletic prowess. He was a star athlete in high school, also studied and excelled at the martial arts, had never been in any trouble, and was a deeply religious Catholic. He graduated from Notre Dame University with a BS Computer Science, a BS in Biology and held a Phd in Philosophy. He was a deeply religious Catholic. After school he had joined the Army and gained the rank of Major. He was involved in Special Ops as an Airborne Ranger successfully completing covert operations all over the world. After ten years of service he left the Army and disappeared. He was a deeply religious Catholic.
Kinnon entered the office of Cardinal Leopold Frontiera deep in the bowels of the Vatican. This was his first meeting with the Cardinal since his own transformation and he expected to receive his first assignment. Frontiera’s secretary ushered him into the large office, replete with antique furniture, paintings, and other sumptuous furnishings. Kinnon was still getting used to these kind of rooms after the two years of spartan living that his training had demanded. The Cardinal entered the room and greeted him
“Ah, Kinnon, good to finally meet you. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. Come, sit down.” he said pointing to a large sofa covered in crimson velvet. “May I get you something, a coffee, tea? Never mind, Father Escada please bring us coffee.” he said to his secretary
After the secretary had left the room, he continued.
“So, you’ve finished your training. An arduous endeavor, no?” he asked
“Yes Cardinal, the training was difficult, but good. I learned much about myself and about our mission.”
“Ah, here’s the coffee. Thank you Father Escada.” he said as the tray was placed before them.
After serving the coffee, the Cardinal continued.
“So, do you feel you’re ready to begin your life as a Knight Templar?” he asked
“Yes Cardinal I’m more ready than I’ve ever been to serve the church.” he answered
“And having gone through the training, learning about our mission and the obligation that you are making, you’re sure that you have chosen the correct path?”
“Absolutely. I was born to serve the Church and God this way.”
“Good my boy. Very good. Very well then.” he said and handed Kinnon a large manila envelope
Kinnon opened the envelope and examined its contents. There was what appeared to be a dossier and several black and white photos.
“The man in the photo is Alexander Brezhnian a Russian billionaire currently living in Argentina. He is heavily invested in oil and mining and employs a private army to help him look after his business interests through murder, extortion, bribery, and whatever other means are required. We estimate that over the past decade he is responsible for the deaths of thousands of poor church members in various South American countries. Your task is to eliminate him. The Holy Father and the special council have sanctioned this action. Please plan your mission and present your plan and your mission requirements to me in three days. Questions?”
Kinnon contemplated the photos for a moment then glanced up at the Cardinal.
“No questions.”
“Good. Thank you my son.” he said and blessed him as he rose to leave.
In a small room with no windows in Buenos Aires, Argentina, sat two men facing each other over a small table. One of these men was Eduardo Costas the other was Emile Piazzola. Costas had classic latino features and was built like a pit bull. Piazzola was tall and lanky with longish salt and pepper gray hair and an aquiline nose, the product of German and Argentinian heritage.
“How did it happen?” asked Piazzola, an assistant director in the AFP (Argentine Federal Police)
“Nobody knows.” replied Costas, a Special Agent with the same organization. “They found him dead in his bedroom early in the morning. His throat had been cut and he had been stabbed in the heart.”
“Where was his security?” asked Piazzola
“All of his men were in place. We’ve interrogated all of them, checked their bank accounts. They are all clean. We’ve reviewed security footage from the villa several times. There’s nothing. All of the security procedures were followed. It’s like a ghost got him or something.”
“Yeah except ghosts don’t cut your throat and stab you in the heart.” said Piazzola
“Who does?” asked Costas
“Indeed Eduardo, who does indeed?” Piazzola asked rhetorically
Kinnon had followed his plan and everything had gone smoothly. He wore non-reflective tactical gear with heat shielding that masked him from surveillance cameras and devices. He had spent weeks observing the guard patrols and timing them. He had also used his impressive computer skills to gain complete knowledge and control of the security network. Having done this preparation and using his formidable stealth skills, he had gained access to the villa, proceeded to Brezhnian’s room and eliminated the man. Afterward he had slipped out the same way he had come. Total execution time was eight minutes.
After having made his way to a small airport on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, a small Vatican owned jet had picked him up for return to the Vatican.
As he sat in the jet, having just finished a meal and washing down the last of a glass of fine Pinot Noir, he thought about the mission. He wasn’t concerned with a post mortem of the mission per se, but rather about his feelings about the mission. He’d killed a man in cold blood, but he’d done it for his beloved Church. He had been trained to do it just as he’d been trained and sanctioned to do it when he was a Ranger. In the end he didn’t regret the act, anymore than he’d regretted the men he’d killed as a Ranger. This was not the first man he’d killed and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Costas answered his office phone “Hello, Agent Costas. Certainly Director, I’ll be there shortly.”
He got up and made his way to interrogation room three where he found Asst. Director Piazzola.
“So Eduardo. How is the case progressing?” he asked
“No new leads sir. Frankly we’re at a dead end.”
“Don’t worry Eduardo, I’m here to make your life easy. You may file this in the cold case file.” he said
“What. I’m afraid I don’t understand, it’s only been a few days.”
“Yes I know. However you are to cease working on it and file it as a cold case.”
“Well sir, that’s fine by me, but may I ask why we are stopping so soon?”
“Hmmm. Are you a religious man Eduardo?”
“Yes, I guess. I mean, I’m not a Saint or anything, but I’m baptized, I go to church.”
“Catholic, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know much about medieval history? Specifically the Church and crusades?”
“Not really, why?”
“There were a group of Knights in the crusade and they found some relic in Jerusalem. I don’t remember what it was, the Holy Grail, or the Arc of the Covenant or some such treasure. Anyway these knights swore themselves to secrecy and spent decades returning this treasure to Europe and hiding and protecting it. They became known as the Knights Templar. They were ferocious warriors and after a while the Vatican feared that they were becoming a threat to the leadership of the Church. So the Church began a campaign to discredit, persecute, and eventually kill everyone in the order. The Knights Templar were all killed and the order disappeared.”
“Wow. That’s quite a story.” said Costas
“Yeah, quite a story. It’s bullshit of course, but quite a story.” Piazzola replied
“Wait, it’s just a fairy tale?” asked Costas
“Well, nobody’s sure if or what they actually found in Jerusalem and they did return to Europe and become very powerful. However, they were not exterminated as the historians would have us believe. The Vatican leadership did consider them to be somewhat of a threat, but also recognized them as a powerful potential asset. So a deal was made. The Vatican PR guys would see that the extermination tale got spread around and the Templars themselves would become a secret society within the Church, whose mission would be to protect Mother Church by any means necessary. They evolved into the Church’s covert military Intelligence operation and they exist to this day. They are very good at what they do.”
“That’s a new one! Interesting, but what does any of this have to do with Brezhnian’s murder?” asked Costas
Piazzolla stared at Costas with poker face. Costas waited for him to answer then realized an answer was not coming.
“Oh! Wait! Really?” he asked “You’re telling me that a Knight Templar from the Vatican murdered this guy? Are you serious? Carajo! Get the fuck outta here!”
“I’m telling you just that Eduardo. I spoke a friend at Interpol and another at the FBI. Both told me the same story and both assured me that we’ll never solve the murder. Period. It’s a waste of time to try.”
“Holy shit!” said Costas realizing the pun too late
“Yes Eduardo. I’ve discussed this with the Director and we’ve agreed, you are to stop now. Move on.”
Kinnon forked the last of his excellent fish into his mouth and washed it down with a wonderful wine. He was in a small restaurant that he liked and was looking forward to a night in his own bed. A priest in cassock and collar appeared before him and sat down opposite him.
“Nice work Greg.” he said
Father Daniel Wilby was a fellow Templar and at the moment, Kinnon’s immediate superior. He had conducted the last six month phase of Kinnon’s training. He was a seemingly mild mannered young man of about thirty years, but looks could be deceiving.
“Thank you Father Wilby.” he replied
“We are glad you are back safe and sound. Is there anything you need?” he asked
“No, everything’s fine. Just looking forward to a good night’s sleep in my own bed.” he replied
“Good, good. Well then, I’ll leave you to finish. I’ve scheduled your mission post mortem for day after tomorrow at ten. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely Father, I’ll see you there.”
“Very well then. Goodbye.”
The post mortem went well and all concerned complimented Kinnon on his thoroughness and skill in completing the mission. Father Wilby informed him that he would be down for at least three weeks time during which he should exercise, practice his craft and relax.
Kinnon left the building and went to a little sidewalk cafe that he enjoyed where he had a light lunch and a coffee. He noticed a man opposite his table, leaning against a fountain reading a newspaper. He wasn’t sure why, but the man had caught his attention. Something about his mein and the way he stood, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
As he got up and started walking back to his office, he noticed the man peel off from the fountain and begin to follow him...
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