Vatican Assassin (21 page)

There’s so much authority represented here, it makes me itch. Not my kind of place, for
sure. The food is great, and the espresso, but everything else... I don’t know, I’d say it’s too old,
but that’s not it, not entirely. Even in St. Peter’s, even looking up at the ceiling of the Sistine, I
don’t feel the same sense of, I don’t know, “holiness”, I guess, that I felt on that stupid space
station. Hmm. How much of that is drug-related? They dosed me with a lot of funky
psychotropics. And made me their new messiah, kinda. Wild. And now, here I am, back in the
Vatican.

I wonder how ol’ Kim is doing a month into his Messiahship? Hope it’s going smoothly for
the guy. I’d check in, but there’s no way for me to get through to him from here. I’ve tried.
Communications office says it’s a no go. Whatever that means. At least they let me talk to the
Moon.

Marc Edwards seems to be doing well. Turns out he’s a real friend, kept calling the
Cardinal to ask where I was. Good to have a friend like that for a change.
BC is lost in thought as he walks. He nods as he passes random functionaries in the halls as he gets closer to the Pope’s meeting room. Some shoot him disapproving, officious glances, some merely ignore his passing.

It’s weird. Compared to Kim and even the crazy old Light himself, everyone here seems
like a businessman, not a holy man. They may be drugged up and crazy on Fortune Station, but
they seem, I don’t know, more real, more authentic... yeah, more holy, I guess.
Holier than the Big Guy, anyway. Gotta brace myself for the bitch out.
BC walks into the antechamber of the Pontiff’s meeting hall. The Pope’s secretary, another priest, looks up and nods at BC.

“Father Campion? Go right ahead in, he’s waiting for you.”

He waves him by. BC opens the heavy wooden door in front of him and walks into the papal meeting room, where Pope Peter the Second awaits.

He is seated in an ornately carved dark wooden throne; the stark white official robes of his office contrast sharply with his ebony skin. Sharp, piercing brown eyes light up his face and size up BC.

“Bernard, good to see you!”

“And you, sir.”

Peter stares at BC, not saying anything.

BC shifts his weight as he waits under the pontiff’s gaze.

A minute? Five minutes? How long...

“I said we’d talk again before you leave. You have... questions?” the old man finally asks him.

“Some.”

“You leave today, don’t you?”

“I’m going back to the moon this afternoon.”

“And you want to know what’s up, no doubt. I can understand that, er,” he pauses, his eyebrows arch up, “that is what your questions are about, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah. Am I in or out?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you were out.”

BC gulps, “I see.”

Pope Peter looks him square in the eye, “Yes, I see you do. You’re still in, for now.” He shifts in his chair, smoothes his robes, and looks back up at BC. “For now.”

“There haven’t been any new revelations made by the UIN have there?” BC protests. “I found no evidence of any exposure in my own investigating over the last two weeks here. Nothing in the news, no new statements... was there something through secure channels?”

“No, nothing like that. They haven’t said anything more than they did originally. But I believe they’re holding on to the information,” Peter says with a heavy sigh.

“If they have it...”

“Don’t kid yourself, you know they’ve got something. She got you on camera calling in here, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, I think so. She had it in front of her when I looked up.”

“Your cover is blown, on some level, unless she didn’t hit record or something foolish like that. Are you that lucky?”

“I’m still here...” BC grins sheepishly.

“Right. For now,” Peter repeats. BC stops grinning.

Peter continues, “But know this. The knowledge they have of you, the evidence they have, is a weapon they can use against you. Against us. Against,” Peter looks around at the room, and beyond, “all of us. The church, the UTZ, the Earth, the Moon. That’s a powerful weapon. If I had a weapon like that, I wouldn’t use it until the time was just right, when it would do the most damage. I imagine the UIN are probably thinking the same thing. They are being patient with their information ‘bomb’. And if nothing else, the UIN has shown us throughout the years that they can be very, very patient.”

“So, what, then, I’m a time bomb?”

Pope Peter laughs, “Yes, I guess you are, good analogy. Huh, well, bad analogy, too.” He stops laughing and frowns.

“So... you want me to keep laying low? I can’t get much lower than I just was.”

“Yes, I know. That was good!” Peter smiles, looks BC in the eye. “You were off the radar entirely! And you did the job where others had failed. And you left there in charge of the place! That was very good!” Peter says.

BC tries to take the compliment.

“Well, kind of in charge,” BC says. “There’s one of them, a Father Kim, who’s really in charge. I’m a figurehead. I will have to go back there from time to time, though, to keep up appearances, keep the place under our control.”

“Right,” Peter says. For a moment he seems distracted. “Oh, yes,” he says, as if remembering something, “While you’ve been recuperating here these last two weeks, I’ve been thinking about what we can do with you. I’ve decided to assign someone to work with you.”

No fucking way!

“Work with me? I work alone. Period. I don’t want, I don’t need a partner!” BC protests.

“Relax!” Peter admonishes him, “I don’t mean a partner. But Cardinal Andersen tells me you’re not much of a priest...”

What the... I don’t need this shit again! Not from this guy!

BC starts to protest but Pope Peter just keeps talking.

“I’m assigning you a trainer, of sorts. A tutor, to work with you on your presentation,” Peter says.

Pope Peter draws close. BC can smell sour garlic on his breath as he leans in.

“Your cover has to be complete, impenetrable,” he whispers. “You snicker. You shouldn’t. You need to be convincing as a priest or you fail.” He almost spits out the last word. He looks around, as if looking for spies in the shadowy corners of the room. “Your cover won’t hold up for a second. You need to work on plausibly presenting yourself as a priest!” Peter declares. He draws back away from BC, looks down at his desk. “I’ve got someone in mind who’ll be perfect. I’ve already assigned her. She’ll join you on the Moon in a couple of days.”

This is not good.

“I don’t know, sir...”

“Yes, you do know. You know you’d better follow my orders. And this is an order. Just in case there was some confusion on your part. This is part of your job, Campion. She’ll be reporting back to my offices, too, so don’t think you can blow this off once you’re out of here. I believe you’ll find the Reverend Swan to be quite... well, persistent. Yes, quite persistent,” he chuckles,” she’ll have you whipped into shape in no time.”

“Wonderful.”

Can my life get any more annoying?

“You can go now. Remember, keep your profile as low as possible. Be a quiet little priestly PR

person for now, in the Cardinal’s shadow. Keep him out in front for us up there. And say a mass once in a while, for Christ’s sake,” Peter chuckles again, “for Christ’s sake, heh. Love the pun,” he mumbles. BC can feel Marino enter the room and move up behind him. BC bows to Pope Peter. Peter extends his right hand, ring thrust forward.

Aw, Jesus, this sucks.

BC leans forward and kisses the ring on the pope’s finger. Marino clears his throat as BC

straightens.

“Your holiness,” BC says, and nods to Peter. He turns and is face to face with Marino.

“I can’t go anywhere with this one in my way,” BC says in a loud voice.

“First, let him go, we’re through here,” Peter says. Marino, the First, keeps his eyes locked on BC’s as he steps out of BC’s way. BC smiles his best fake smile.

“Thanks ever so much,” he says to Marino, words dripping with sarcasm. Without glancing back at Pope Peter he brushes past Marino, walks across the room, out the door, and down the hall.
No looking back.

Well, that was plain. Fuck up and you won’t be here anymore. I certainly took “here” to
mean “alive” here. Lovely people I’m messed up with.

“Campion! Where are you stomping off to?”

M’Bekke! Didn’t even see him. Lost in thought.
Haven’t seen him since I’ve been back.

“M’Bekke! How are you?”

“I am well, BC. I heard you did well on Fortune Station. Good job. Kept a low profile and took out the objective. I must have taught you well.”

“Well, well, well. Well, I wouldn’t take any credit for my performance of late if I were you, M’Bekke. My star ain’t exactly rising around here right now.”

“Your situation is precarious. I pray for you, BC.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. There are some things I take seriously. Despite appearances otherwise. You’d do well to remember that. And also remember I am your friend, as you have proven to be mine in the past.”

“Thanks, M’Bekke.” BC notices an awkward silence as he doesn’t say anything else, neither does M’Bekke, but neither of them moves. Until M’Bekke speaks.

“The new governor on the Moon appears to be your friend as well. He was rather persistent in his calls after you.”

“He’s a good man, Governor Edwards. Not really a politician at all.”

“Is he gay?”

What a question.

“I don’t think so, M’Bekke. Besides, you know I’m not.”

“Yes, more’s the pity. That Edwards is quite handsome.”

“He is single, M’Bekke. I don’t know if he’s gay. If it ever comes up in conversation I’ll let him know you’re interested.”

“I only said he was persistent. I thought it was cute how he worried about you.”

“I don’t know if he’s your type,” BC shrugs.

“Too bad, it’s been a long time... Well, off with you then,” M’Bekke gestures with his hands.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Your concern is touching, M’Bekke. My ship leaves soon.”

“It was good seeing you, BC. Remember, keep...”

“I know, a low profile. Gotcha! Later, M’Bekke.” BC laughs and heads back to his apartments. He’s got about an hour before he leaves for the flight to the spaceport.
So much for the Belvedere Gardens, no time for quiet contemplation. Arrivederci, Roma...
Course, I don't have much to pack. It’ll be good to get outta here.

BC takes a short-hopper from Rome to Panama. In Panama he discovers his shuttle leaves for Lunar Prime in just over an hour.

Let’s see if I can board the ship now, early. Be nice to settle in for the trip ahead.
His collar and credentials provide him with quick and easy access to the ship well ahead of the other passengers. He boards almost immediately. The passenger cabin is empty. Most of the attendants aren’t even aboard yet. BC finds his way to his seat, puts his carry ons away, and stretches out to grab some sleep before takeoff.

Nice. Sometimes I feel like someone really is looking out for me...
BC lies back on the reclining acceleration couch with his eyes closed, hovering on the edge of sleep.

The passenger cabin is mine alone for the next half an hour.
Ahhh, the gift of blissful
silence...

BC is jarred awake as someone bounces into him. The passenger cabin is full of people stowing luggage, squeezing past each other in the aisle, and one of them has just plopped into the seat next to his, bumping into and waking him up in the process.

Wonderful. Company.

A sickly sweet floral smell assaults his nose.

What is that? Roses dying in the sun? Is that perfume? My God! I’m gonna gag.

“Hi there! I guess we’re seat mates! I’m Sharlena, Sharlena Swan. Reverend Swan, actually. I’m with the church. Oh look, you are, too! Well, hello there Father!”

BC closes his eyes. He opens them back up. And focuses. Tall black woman, sky blue shirt with a clerical collar, leaning forward, trying to push carry on luggage into a space too small for it under the seat in front of her.

She’s still there. Damn. I’d hoped I was hallucinating. That’s her, though, isn’t it? The one
assigned to “whip me into shape.” Thought she was supposed to come up in a couple days? Better
be nice...

“Hi. I was, um, I was sleeping. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. Sorry I woke you up! I’m just really excited! I’ve never been to the Moon before; I could just die! I’ve never even been in space at all. Is this your first time?” the words spill out in a rush.

“No.”

“Oh, good, so you’re a veteran! You can tell me all about it when we’re on our way there, Father... ?” She fishes for his name.

“Actually, if you’ll forgive me, I was hoping to get some sleep.”

She shuts up at this rebuke. BC closes his eyes, but he can feel her energy shift from excited to agitated as she quietly continues to try to shove her bag beneath the seat in front of her and ready herself for takeoff. Her nonverbal grunts and grrs as she strains get louder, until she lets out an exasperated,

“oof.” BC opens his eyes again. One of the attendants is standing in the aisle next to Reverend Swan.

“Reverend? Ma’am? We can stow that for you in back. It’s really too large for that space.”

“But it’s my bag!”

“It won’t be safe there during the trip, ma’am. Please?”

“All right. Here,” she says, and hands the tote up to the attendant. The attendant struggles to lift and hold the bag, then turns and manages it back down the aisle.

“Sorry,” Swan says when she sees he’s awake again. “So, you’re going to the Moon, too?”

“Be pretty foolish of me to be on this ship if I wasn’t, huh?” BC shifts in his seat.

“So you’re a wise guy, too, huh? I betcha I know who you are. You’re Father Bernard Campion, aren’t you?” She asks, looking him in the eye with an air of certainty and triumph.