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Garrett said, “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to talk about anything once you’re on the ground. Let them take you to the cache and then kill them. You can at least launch the drones, correct?”

“Yes. It’s easy. Just input the coordinates, turn on the motor, and let it go.”

“Then we’re good. Raphael, I want you to replace Donatello on this mission. It’ll take two to launch the drones.”

“But I’m supposed to travel with you to Israel. What about that?”

“I can handle that mission alone. The Grand Master initially balked at two security personnel in the first place. I had to convince him. He’ll be happy that it’s only me now, and Michelangelo is already prepped for the mission in Jerusalem. He’s the only one of us that looks remotely Palestinian. He’s the only one that can use the ID cards we found in Syria.”

Raphael said, “Sir, you make this seem easy, but it’s not. We’re not dealing with farm boys from Keta’ib Hezbollah out of Ramadi, Iraq. We’re dealing with Lebanese Hezbollah. The king of terrorist organizations. Those guys don’t fuck around. They have been training and fighting for years. They aren’t a militia, and this is not going to be that easy.”

Garrett said, “I know. But we have the Lord on our side. Trust in the prophecy. I want you to replace Donatello on this mission. It’ll take two to release the drones.”

Michelangelo muttered something. Garrett said, “Did you have something to say?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure the Lord is going to protect us from those nutcases under the sway of Allah.”

“That’s precisely why we’re doing this. After this mission, there won’t be any nutcases following Allah. It will cause the final crusade—and this time we’ll win, bringing the second coming.”

They heard a knock, causing them all to snap their eyes at the little basement door. The secretary cracked it open and said, “Garrett, the lieutenant would like to see you. If you have the time.”

Garrett said, “Of course. I have all the time in the world for him.”

The lieutenant of the Grand Master of the Knights of Malta was the second in charge of the entire organization. According to the constitution, as the religious superior and sovereign, he had taken a vow of chastity and set an example of living by Christian principles to all the members of the order. He was vested with supreme authorities.

In short, he was a powerful man who was one of the few who knew about Garrett’s martial activities in Syria, and had been the deciding man for hiring Garrett’s team. And yet, because of his vows, he was never comfortable with the decision.

The secretary nodded and left. Garrett said, “Start working the problem. I’ll be leaving for Israel soon with the Grand Master. You guys have to figure out the Lebanon piece. We do this, and the Muslims will be eradicated. The third temple will be built, and we live in glory in the kingdom of the Lord.”

Raphael looked at the other two, then nodded. “For Donnie.”

Garrett said, “For the entire world,” and left the room.

He went upstairs, and found the secretary at her ornate desk. So unlike what he had been given for office space, even as his job was much more important than hers. She stood and led him into the lieutenant’s office, an ostentatious thing full of gilded drapes and ornate carvings. Marco Bianchi stood up, saying, “Garrett, thank you for taking the time.” Wearing his full Knights cloak, the Malta cross emblazoned across the front, he looked vaguely like he would be more at home in the Vatican.

As soon as he saw him, Garrett knew something wasn’t right. He’d met Marco multiple times, and he’d always worn a suit, albeit with Knights memorabilia pinned to his lapel. To have him meet with the regalia of his office was not a good sign.

Garrett said, “Of course, sir. How can I help you?”

Marco walked around the desk, took Garrett’s arm, and led him to a chair, saying, “We have a problem. There was a man killed. He had a passport from the Hospitaller. A diplomatic passport. And he worked for you.”

Garrett feigned shock, saying, “Who? Who was it? Donatello?”

Now Marco showed surprise, saying, “Yes, that’s who it was. How did you know?”

“He’s the only Turtle that isn’t here. He took a vacation to Croatia. What happened? Was it a car wreck or something like that? I swear I’ve told them not to carry that passport when not on official business.”

Marco returned to his desk, sitting down and saying, “No, it wasn’t in Croatia. It was in Bahrain. Have you seen what’s happened in Bahrain?”

“Yes, some sort of attack. But why does that involve Donatello?”

“He was killed in the attack. He’s dead.”

Garrett rubbed his head, like he was trying to assimilate the information. He said, “Why was he in Bahrain? Did you send him there?”

Marco’s eyes went wide. He said, “Us? No. That’s my question. He works for you. Why was he there?”

Garrett said, “Sir, I have no idea. He asked for a little time to go home. His mother is not well. I told him he could, but only on his Croatian passport. What’s going on?”