Free Cain by James Byron Huggins

to a young Hispanic altar boy standing close to the side. Barely twelve years old, the boy was holding both hands tigh tly in front of his chest. "Miguel, come here."
    Instan tly the boy ran forward as if he felt safer beside the old priest. He was trembling and nervous as Barth wrapped a long arm around his shoulders. "Can you find the Mother Superior, Miguel? I believe she is busy at the hospital supervising morning prayers."
    "Yes, Father!" he said, trembling. "I know I can!"
    "Good, child, then find her quickly!" Father Barth gently slapped him on the back to hustle him away before he turned back to Wescott, his face becoming severe and grim.
    "Now, Captain, please take me to my son."
    ***
    Cries of two hysterical young nuns met Father Barth as he mounted the third-story steps to Father Lanester's room. As he came past the corner he saw them sitting in chairs, weeping uncontrollably, nervously moving rosary beads and crucifixes in trembling hands.
    Ambulance personnel were trying without success to calm the two nuns, who appeared almost identical with dark skin and olive eyes swollen with tears. Hands were raised over their faces and plainclothes police officers stood behind the EMTs, waiting to ask questions.
    Father Barth took a moment to try to soothe their nerves but realized quickly he would not succeed, so he patted their shoulders gen tly, concerned at the shock evident in their cries.
    "It's this way, Father," said Captain Wescott. "They're about to remove ... what's left of the body. You might want to take a look at it before they do."
    Steadily, Father William Barth turned his head. "Yes, of course." He moved for the door.
    "Watch your step, Father."
    The old man stared down. "Why?"
    "Because ... well ... you'll see."
    With a dark frown, the priest entered the room.
    ***
    "We just received A-Classification orders on the Defense Imaging System," Ben said. "We've got a standing green light and an unlimited budget. And the Corps has recertified you, Sol. Back to your former rank of Lieutenant Colonel, with no time loss. They're giving you one hour to sign or decline."
    Soloman made an expression, a smile or frown. "The JCS is requiring full recertification?"
    "Yeah, Sol. They want a light colonel running this show since we're using fully armed gunships. They're not going to set tle for an independent operative. So, you're either completely in or completely out. But if you do come in, you'll have full authority and command, just like the old days. My guys will take your orders just like the SEALs or your super-grunts."
    "Who's running the show?"
    "Bull Thompson. The old man."
    "Does the JCS retain jurisdiction?"
    "Yeah, the JCS. But there's ..." Ben hesitated. "There's a few goons involved – the CIA, NSA. They said security was compromised so they had some kinda jurisdictional interest. They didn't get all the cards, but they're on the Trinity Council as advisers."
    "Who's the point man for the CIA?"
    Ben was up-front; old times behind it.
    "Archette," he said .
    Leaning back, Soloman was silent.
    Then he saw again the blood-drenched moment when he had come to take the life of the CIA psychiatrist, again beheld Ben squared off before him, intent to defend the life of the man most responsible for the death of Soloman's wife and child ...
    ***
    The storm-torn night roared with vengeance.
    Soloman staggered forward in blood, having traveled so far to finish the life of the man who, according to the dying gasp of the last terrorist, had compromised the location of his family. And Soloman had believed the words; had believed them because no man suffering the kind of hideous pain Soloman had inflicted could have lied.
    He had narrowly threaded his way through Customs and New York police to track the revered Dr. Winston Archette, gen tleman, scholar, Deputy Director of Covert Operations for the Central Intelligence Agency, and traitor, to his retreat on Martha's Vineyard. Then Soloman had crawled slowly and painfully