Vatican Ambassador (5 page)

That’s it? Wonder if it’s real, if M’Bekke is alive. Wonder if it’s true? All I know about Linus is
what I see on the news, for Chrissake! I’ve seen him touring the ruins around Vatican City,
talking about Peace. Looks like a pope, acts like a pope. Talks Peace. Everybody’s talking peace.
Wonder if that can be believed, either?

I really think we’ve just temporarily run out of weapons... for now. Each side threw all it had at
the other in the last battles. Maybe we’ve run out of ammo, too. Maybe we’ve run out of people!

Such incredible losses on both sides!

But is this peace or is this stalemate, this current cease-fire? And what was the war for?

Ultimately, nothing, neither side gained or lost ground in any meaningful way.
Maybe I’ve been set free!

Maybe this message also says the OPO is over. No more yoke around my neck... I hope
M’Bekke is alive; he’s one of the good ones. Even if the message does come from him, I’m still not
sure I’m inclined to believe him.

“Father BC?” His secretary interrupts. She’s old and old fashioned, and while she’ll call him “BC”, she refuses to NOT call him “Father.”

“Yes, Lisa?”

“It’s nearly time for the signing ceremony. You’re supposed to be there before 10:30.”

“Thank you, Lisa.”

Oh joy, oh bliss. Well, at least it will be over with.

The moon is crawling with guests. I saw that bastard Wentworth walking around.
Guess he’s
leading the UTZ delegation. It’s funny. What a difference a half a month makes! There are some
actual guests arriving! Not that Pope Linus would come… he’d rather have endure the pain, heh!

This signing ceremony kinda reminds me of that first peace conference; back when I first
came to the Moon. First time since then that we’ve had so many guests. Even the UIN sent actual
leaders. I saw Ibn Al-Salid and his delegation arrive just yesterday.
BC puts away the CCU for later, when he gets back from the ceremony. He doesn't want to go, but he has to, duty and all.
As a persona non grata with the McEntyre administration, he'll behave himself; play the role of the quiet diplomat.

BC dresses in a formal purple suit and collar, and checks his appearance in the mirror.
Good to go. The very measure of a modern Vatican Ambassador...

Once outside his rooms, BC sets the silent alarms on his quarters. He presses his hand against the hidden security panel in the wall next to the door.

There are a lot of people on the moon right now, and, no doubt a lot who'd like to get inside
and take a look at the new Vatican Mission. Best not to give them too easy an opportunity to do
that.

BC ponders his security measures as he makes his way to the signing ceremony. Once in the auditorium, he’s sent to an assigned place in the crowd. He can’t help chuckling to himself.
I’m further back from the podium this time! McEntyre sends subtle messages
...
fine by me. Just
get the fucking thing over with...
Oh man, can he look smugger? Makes me want to delicately
wipe the smile off his face with my fist...

BC zones out and lets the ceremony go by in a blur. He tries not to pay too much attention. He knows they sign the Declaration; he stands and applauds with the crowd.

Then he files out with the rest of the attendees for the mandatory after-reception.
Well, gotta attend this, at least for a little while. I don’t want to deal with any of these
assholes, really. There’s Wentworth... looking at me, coming this way! Shit.
BC tries to avoid him, manages to duck out a side door.

Strategic exit. He’s the last guy I want to talk to. Especially after the news I got about Fiza.
Fiza’s name was listed among the recently deceased on a report from Wentworth Station a couple months ago.

I might have to kill him on the spot. And that would be so messy, so undiplomatic of me as the
ambassador...

BC hurries away from the reception. He heads back towards his office. He’s just heading down the hall to his section when two goons appear in front of him. BC tries to look nonchalant.

“Hi guys! Afraid you missed mass this morning...”

When all else fails...

BC turns and runs... right into the chest of a third goon who's snuck up behind him.

“Ooof!”

“Mr. Wentworth wants to see you,” the goon says to BC.

Insistent Bastard...

“Unh...” is all BC manages to say, as one of the first two goons catches up behind him and clubs him hard on the back of the head.

That hurts...

BC blacks out.

BC comes to lying on a couch in what looks like one of Lunar Prime’s finer hotels. He rubs the back of his head, feeling a goose egg.

Damn. Does that hurt!

BC turns his head from side to side, trying to loosen his neck muscles. He blinks, trying to get his vision to clear and focus.

“He’s coming around. Good. I worried you’d hit him too hard, Lawrence,” a dark and slippery voice says. “Can you hear me, Campion? I told you, you wouldn’t like me knowing who you are! You’ve risen through the ranks a bit since we last spoke, haven’t you? Full ambassador! That’s impressive. How is your head?”

Wentworth.

“Fuck you,” BC says.

“Is that any way to start our conversation? Any way for a diplomat to talk to the UTZ representative to this ceremony today? What, are you having another one of those headaches, padre?” Wentworth jokes. BC rubs the back of his head as he answers. “Funny. You clubbed me. Is that any way to open a dialogue with the Vatican Ambassador?”

“Touché,” Wentworth concedes, “Perhaps not. But certain precautions need to be taken when that Vatican Ambassador is also an assassin! It would have been easier if we could have at least chatted at the reception,” Wentworth assures him. “Yet you avoided me. You have been avoiding me.”

“I didn’t feel like making small talk with a murderer,” BC says as he tries to sit up on the couch.

“Murderer? Who? Fiza? She’s not dead, just... gainfully employed. Making herself useful, you could say. She’s still on my station. She’s not dead.”

“That’s not what I hear,” BC says.

“Oh, yes. That. You probably heard about the report. That’s what we do with some of our more, uh,
indentured
, servants on the station. She’s just
officially
dead, not
actually
dead. Makes the paperwork so much easier.
It’s just a formality, terms of her employment,” Wentworth says dismissively.

“Convenient for when you really do kill her, then. If I can believe you,” BC says. “I know you, Wentworth… I know your type. You’re the type of man who can tell another man anything he wants to hear, in order to get that other man to do as you ask. You’ll tell me she’s not dead, whether she is or not, if it makes me open up to whatever it is you’ve dragged me here for.” BC looks around the room,

“Wherever ‘here’ is.”

“You’re still on the Moon,” Wentworth says. “We haven’t gone anywhere. I need information from you, cooperation. I don’t need
you
,” he says with emphasis, “I need you for what you
know
, and who you represent. I am doing this in an official UTZ capacity, and so I officially apologize for your clubbing....”

“And kidnapping,” BC interjects.

“You are not tied down, Campion. You can leave now, if you like,” Wentworth says with a gesture towards the door.

After that thwack, I don’t know if I can stand up without getting dizzy... maybe not yet.
Wonder if I got a concussion from that love tap?

“But,” Wentworth continues, “Before you go, a question. Why have we lost all touch with the Vatican?”

“Maybe because you go around clubbing their agents,” BC mumbles. He rubs the back of his head.

“What do you mean, ‘lost all touch’? I’ve seen the Pope on the news and stuff.”

“Yes, and that’s all we’ve seen or heard from this new Pope. We worked closely with Pope Peter, as you know. This new man doesn’t do us the courtesy of returning our messages,” Wentworth says with some indignation.

“How rude,” BC mocks him.

“Why won’t he get in touch with us?” Wentworth says, losing patience.

“He won’t get in touch with anybody!” BC says, matching Wentworth’s tone.

“What?”

“I haven’t heard anything myself, not since he named me ambassador and told me to rebuild the mission up here. It’s been a whole lot of nothing since January.”

“Nothing? I find that hard to believe. You’re the ambassador; there must be reports, communiqués...”

Wentworth is shaking his head.

“Nope. Afraid not. Oh, I send reports back there, don’t get me wrong. I report to them every week. But them to me? Not so much.” BC’s tone is tinged with sarcasm.

“But what about...” Wentworth looks around, then walks over to whisper to BC, “What about the OPO?”

Do I tell him about today’s communiqué? What if it’s a set up? Nothing for now…

“The OPO is done,” BC whispers back. "As far as I can tell. No word, no nothing. I can only assume our mission died with Pope Peter. The OPO ain’t what it used to be.”

“This isn’t good,” Wentworth says as he turns to pace back across the room.

“You’re telling me,” BC agrees. He tries standing up.

Good, legs holding, I’m standing, gonna walk outta here soon.
Ew. Still kind of dizzy.
See if I can
take a step or two...

“Are you leaving, Campion?” Wentworth asks.

“Just stretching my legs and, you know, flexing my head,” BC says, massaging the back of his head.

“What do you do without the Vatican’s direction?” Wentworth steers back to his main question.

“Just keep going. Rebuild the mission, say mass every Sunday, just be ambassador, you know.”

“Hmmph,” Wentworth breathes, clearly not satisfied. “That’s it? No subterfuge?”

“Subter wha? No, no OPO stuff at all, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s what I mean.”

“What would I do? Who would I do it for? There’s no one directing me. I’m pretty much a free agent,”

BC says.

“Right,” Wentworth says. “Pretend ambassador for an unreachable Pope. That’s not what you call a position of strength, now, is it?" Wentworth growls a low chuckle. "How ‘free’ does that really make you? Who’s got your back now, Campion, eh?”

Bastard’s got a point. I could find
myself
in his “employment” soon if I’m not careful... I gotta get
out of here...

“Food for thought, then, isn’t it?” Wentworth gets almost playful. “And maybe you’re wondering why I don’t just take you out, hmm? Now that I see your situation for what it is? Well, maybe,” Wentworth draws close to BC, looks him eye to eye, “Maybe we’re really on the same side. Ever consider that?”

“Nope, never crossed my mind,” BC snaps back.

“We can help each other,” Wentworth offers.

“I don’t know if I can take any more of your kind of help,” BC says, and his hand goes back to again massage the spot where he was clubbed.

“You’ve made this unpleasantness necessary, Campion. I would have preferred we had started off better.”

“Yeah, sure... But, you know, it's funny, I react unusually poorly when friends of mine are forced into sexual slavery, and/or killed. Guess that kind of colored my reactions from that point forward,” BC can’t help the sarcasm. “After you reported her dead, I can’t say my opinion of you improved.”

“I told you, we have an unconventional arrangement with many of our employees where they are reported dead...”

“Unconventional? I don’t know, prostitution and slavery are pretty old fashioned, nothing really

‘unconventional’ about that,” BC interrupts.

“Fiza’s working at what she does best. Working off her debt on her back. You know Fiza, BC. You know she’s trouble. She’s... less... trouble, now. Everyone’s happy”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s ecstatic.”

“At least. And certainly sometimes orgasmic, eh?" Wentworth smiles a humorless smile. "But enough about the slut. We have official business to discuss. Can’t you stay for a little while? Hear me out, at the very least. Have a seat, over here at the desk.” Wentworth walks over next to the hotel desk, motions BC to the chair in front of it. “I’m meeting you in an official UTZ capacity. You have nothing to fear.”

“Other than getting clubbed over the head?” BC protests.

“I’ve already apologized for that. And as I’ve said, you forced the situation.”

“Right, this is all
my
fault,” BC can't help but lapse back into sarcasm.

“Can we get beyond this petty shit and talk about things of real importance?” Wentworth asks BC as he sits down behind the desk. BC still stands.

“Such as?” he asks.

“Such as, who is this new Pope? Where did he come from?” Wentworth presses.
Wow, he is genuinely interested. How to play this fucker... he’s a smart guy... gotta be vague.
Information is all I have, my only currency with this bastard. I’m not even sure what I know, now,
after the communiqué today. Can’t just give it away.

“He’s an old school Roman Catholic,” BC tells Wentworth. "Giuseppe something."

"I know that. That's public knowledge. We've got the basic facts. But what's his deal? What drives him?" Wentworth probes.

"I wish I knew," BC admits, shaking his head.

Wentworth gets back up and starts to come back around the desk.

So he doesn't have to look up at me... talk about in your face...
Wentworth faces BC from about a foot away.

"It doesn't do either of us any good if you hold back what you know!" he demands.

"I'm not sure that I know any more than you already know. Pope Peter is dead. Linus the Second is Pope. The OPO has gotten quiet. The Vatican has been quiet."

"They talked to you. You were promoted, tasked with this mission."

"Sure, but since then, like I told you before, I haven't heard anything. I'm assuming I'm doing the right things, because they never question any of my reports," BC laughs.