Vatican Assassin (15 page)

He cleans up best he can. When he’s done, the guard takes the mop back from him, and the other guard motions for BC to follow him out the door. BC complies, shuffling into the corridor. They lead him to the bathroom again, only this time the guard has a gun.
What, lead pipes now going out of fashion?
Wait... Is that my gun?

“We’re going to untie you, but I warn you, try anything and I will shoot you,” the guard says, pointing the weapon at BC. He nods to the other guard, who bends down and begins untying BC.
Tempting, but no. Foolish.

The guard with the gun holds out a bundle, tossing it to BC when his hands are untied.

“Clean clothes. Go ahead inside the bathroom, get cleaned up and changed. You have ten minutes. Any longer, I come in after you, and I will shoot you. Go ahead.”

Cool, my very own robe! Fuck. Might as well.

BC cleans up and changes, gets tied back up and escorted back to his closet. Someone’s come while he was in the bathroom and finished cleaning the room. It’s better than it was, but it still reeks of sour, rotten fish.

Did they do that to me on purpose? Hard to tell. Wonder if I’ll be able to eat when dinner
comes?

BC waits for dinner. And waits. It seems like hours go by.

How long has it been? I thought it’d be an hour or two at most.
He paces the length of the closet a few hundred times. Bored, BC picks up the Bible again.
I could read it, I suppose. Might help keep me sane, keep me focused.
BC finds he can’t really focus on reading.

Ah, whatever. Can’t concentrate. I’ll try later.

He sits and waits.

This is ridiculous. I don’t even feel nauseous anymore. Where are they?

After another couple of hours, a guard opens the door.

“Here’s your dinner.” He leaves a tray like the one the night before and leaves BC to contemplate whether or not it’s dosed. And whether his time sense is off.
Was it really that long a time? If I was talking I’d have asked him what kept him! The
guard acted normal enough, not as if he was late.
Damn, I’m hungry, though. Gotta eat this crap
even if it is laced with some kind of holy bug juice.

He waits again after eating to see if there is any strangeness.

Hmm. Nope. Nothing. I don’t think so. I...

BC drifts off and sleeps soundly.

They serve him breakfast, lunch and dinner, over the next couple of days. Each time he eats he has to wonder if they dose him. They do dose him the second night, and BC finds it hard to focus the day after at all. He tries to clear his thoughts.

The intervals of time between my ‘meals’ don’t seem regular. They lengthen and contract.
They may be trying to fuck up my sense of time. Time is fluid, changing, unfixed and uncertain.
How long have I been here, really?

They leave the light on in his closet and give him day, turn it off for night accordingly, but BC is growing sure the intervals aren’t consistent.

Neither are the intervals between the times they wake him up, take him to the bathroom, and feed him. Sometimes it seems like only hours between his feedings and bathroom runs, sometimes it seems like a day or two.

It might be four days, I don’t know. They’re definitely fucking with my time sense. I don’t
think they’re giving me real “nights” and “days.” And the food. I’ve tripped out at least a couple
times. However long it’s been... I haven’t seen The Light again.
Finally, The Light returns. It feels like a week later to BC, but he can’t be sure.

“Mr. Campion! Will you talk to me yet? Hello?”

No.

BC says nothing. After five minutes of silence The Light proclaims, “Very well, then. I’m having you cleaned up and brought to dinner with us tonight, whether you’ll speak to us or not. I’ve been failing my Lord with you. I haven’t had you at my table! We’ll see you there tonight.”

BC finds himself cleaned up and sitting at dinner with The Light that night. He’s strapped to his chair around the waist and around each leg, his left arm strapped down and his right left free so he can eat.
The warmest hospitality from my gracious hosts...

The food smells good. BC decides to eat. They share the same common serving dishes, so if he’s getting anything funny in the food, they all are.

“Hope the food is good, Mr. Campion!” The Light says.

BC stops eating. He puts down his fork and just sits there, staring back at The Light.

“Don’t stop on my account! Go ahead, enjoy it!”

BC remains still. The odors from the food in front of him, the baked fish and the summer squash, rise up and assault his senses, torturing him, testing his resolve, but he doesn’t take another bite. He stares at The Light.

Fuck you.

BC doesn’t move. The others continue their meal. BC endures the torture of the smell of the melting butter on the squash wafting over to him, the way the fish flakes off the plate onto the fork of the woman next to him, the way she smiles and closes her eyes after eating the fish, savoring its taste as she chews, chews, and swallows.

At the end of the meal he’s led back to his closet, after The Light tells him, “maybe some day you’ll eat with us, Campion. You just weren’t ready. We’ll have something brought to you later.”

Later, as he eats alone in his closet, The Light’s voice suddenly booms out from a hidden speaker.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally eating, Mr. Campion. I do not wish you harm. I wish you’d renounce your intent to kill me. If you pray for it, Mr. Campion, if you really mean it, God will grant you his forgiveness. You can confess and be healed and join us. Think about it, won’t you Mr. Campion?”

BC freezes. He stops eating, backs away from the food and curls up in the corner.
The Light must be watching me on some hidden camera, talking to me on a speaker
somewhere out of sight.
I don’t know where the camera is, but I will perform for no one. Fuck
them for watching me. How long have they been watching me? No doubt this whole time. I should
have known, I guess I assumed, but Fuck it! Fuck The Light! This bites. Why not just kill me now?

Maybe I have to confess first. That could be it, or part of it. Confess so I can die pure, right? No
thanks. But maybe I can use a confession angle to my advantage...
The Light speaks again, over the speaker, “Ah. I’m sorry Mr. Campion, I should not have disturbed you. Do not deprive yourself on my account.”

BC doesn’t move.

“I don’t want to keep you as a prisoner if I don’t have to, Mr. Campion. But you are here to kill me, and that really leaves me no choice. I will turn off the camera, now, though, and soon I’ll stop talking and switch off the com to this room entirely. You’ll have your privacy back. You will be free to do as you like. We will talk again soon, Mr. Campion.”

BC sits in silence. After a while he decides to finish eating. The lights go out and he falls asleep. He dreams of being chased, of being chased, of being chased, again and again. He wakes up when the light come back on.

Morning? I just don’t know. Less sure each time
.

They bring him breakfast and a fresh robe. He eats, then changes, then sits and waits.
How much time has really passed? Is it really a week? Feels like it. Maybe. I’m trying to
maintain my focus, but it’s hard. I just don’t know. These guys are experienced at brainwashing.
I’m sure they teach that in Basic Cult 101, right? Lots of experience.
After a time, about “midday”, a man BC hasn’t seen before enters his closet. He’s small, rounded, balding, robed like the others. He picks up The Light’s Bible, and speaks after the door closes behind him.

“Hello, Mr. Campion. My name is Sylvester Kim. I am an assistant to The Light. As he remains your primary target, he’s asked me to come here to hear your confession. Are you ready to confess?”

BC ignores him.

“I am here to take your confession, to offer you forgiveness and penance and absolution of your sins, should you so desire. To welcome you into our family, should you confess and be reborn with us in Jesus. You can be forgiven, Mr. Campion, if you’ll only renounce before God your mission to kill The Light.”

Why not? I’m stuck right now. This could be the way out.
Then again, this could be just
setting me up to be killed with a pure heart. It might be okay to help me on my way to heaven
after my soul’s been cleansed. I’ll bet that’s what they did to the other two before me.

“My... ahem, excuse me,” BC clears his throat. He hasn’t spoken for days. “My name is Bernard Campion. I am a priest, duly ordained by his holiness Pope Peter the Second, New catholic Church. I am an agent of the Pope, a member of the Office of Papal Operations, sent to investigate the man you call ‘The Light,’ for his holiness. I am then to report back on conditions here. I am not here to kill The Light. I entered covertly to try to observe the situation here without detection. In this I failed. I have nothing to confess. Plus, if I confess, you’ll kill me, right? So, no. .”

“I see. So, then, you won’t renounce all intent to kill The Light? Won’t you ask the Lord to forgive you for conspiring to kill His Holy Servant on Earth?”

“I never planned to kill him. I never meant any harm. You misunderstand my mission here. If it makes you happy, sure, yes, I renounce all violence towards The Light. I never meant any.”

I lie so well, so easily. Let’s see if he believes...

“Do you confess these sins?”

“To you? Or to everybody listening in?”

“No one is listening in. We are in the private sanctity of your confessional.”

This place is just about as roomy as those boxes, all right.

“Sure. I confess. Now, you kill me, right?”

“No, I have no wish to harm you, Mr. Campion. So, you confess to?”

“To having aimed to deceive, so sorry.”

“Observe the forms, please.”

“What forms?”

“You may not have these rules in your lax new church, but we do. We begin, ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been, well, however long since my last confession and these are my sins.’”

“So, you’re a Father, then?”

“Yes. The Light himself ordained me.”

“But he’s discredited. You’re no priest.”

“Under our rules, neither are you.”

“So, then, are we even?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“I don’t think you’re ready to confess, either.” Sylvester Kim turns and leaves the closet. BC is left alone again.

The hidden speaker crackles to life.

“Mr. Campion, Father Kim says you aren’t really ready to confess your sins. I’m disappointed.”

The Light. Hello fuckhead.

BC doesn’t answer. After a moment of silence The Light speaks again.

“Very well. Stay silent, Mr. Campion.

“You have my Bible. Have you even looked at it? That copy has been in my family for years. I give it to you to read and reflect on, Mr. Campion, so you may meditate on the Word of God. Let me recommend the first letter of John to you, for now. God is Love, Mr. Campion. If you do not know love, you do not know God. What God do you serve, Mr. Campion?”

Arrogant Bastard.

The Light does not speak again. They leave BC alone with the Bible for hours. No one comes with food. No one looks in on him, and the lights stay on.

I bet they’re watching, though. I can almost feel it. Where is that camera?

Eventually, out of pure boredom, BC picks up the book.

At least it’s something. Something to read.

He turns to the First Letter of John, Chapter Six, and reads,

“Anyone who says, ‘I love God’ and hates his brother is a liar, since whoever does not love the brother whom he can see cannot love God, whom he has not seen.”

Nice words, anyway. Charming sentiment. Too bad no church seems to follow them. His
specialness The Light doesn’t seem to heed them either, since he’s killed two men before me
already. And how many of his own followers?

BC is left alone with the light on for a long time, so he keeps reading. It’s something to do. He only used the Bible before to pass the “seminary” course he took to become a minister, so he could set up his own “nonprofit” church.

Didn’t really read it then, just found the answers I needed and copied them out of it.
Didn’t really care what it had to say. It was a means to end. Well, nothing else to do...
BC reads. His days continue to pass in ragged fashion, with some meals dosed, and some days lasting God knows how long. But BC keeps reading, and begins to appreciate the Bible as a collection of writings. He has nothing else to do with his “days” as he sits in his box, prisoner of The Light and his followers, so he reads nonstop. Another week, maybe more, seems to go by. As the time passes, he finds himself reading all of the gospels, the Acts of the Apostles and their letters and the letters of Paul.
Never actually sat down and read the thing like a book before. Funny. Most of what Jesus
says, no one actually does, not anymore. This commune in space they have here might just be
closer to what He was describing back then. Are they subtly brainwashing me here or what?

Gotta remember, The Light really
is
a vicious fuck.
..

The Cardinal sighs. His secretary, buzzing him with a priority call, has interrupted his afternoon nap. Again.

The Cardinal has been receiving calls from Governor Marc Edwards. The calls started when Campion had been gone over two weeks. The governor asks each time if Campion has returned, and day after day the Cardinal’s answer is the same:

“No, no, he’s still away on the Pope’s business, I’m afraid.”

And each day the governor says something like, “it’s getting to be a long time...”

The Cardinal’s answer is usually something like, “There’s really no telling how long it will take,”

to which Governor Edwards normally replies, “well, it’s been two weeks,” then it’s “three weeks,” then