Vatican Assassin (27 page)

"Sounds true, I'll give you that. Who'd you rip the story from?"

"Argh!" Fiza stands up. "If I could storm out and go somewhere I would! You are impossible!"

"And you, my dear, lie at will all too easily. I'll reserve judgment for now." She sits back down and stews. BC stands, folds down his bed, and climbs on to catch some sleep.

"You should try to sleep some, too. Fiza," BC says as he lies down.

"What about the station you were telling me about?"

"Never mind. It was a lie," BC lies. "I made it up."

"Fuck you."

Fiza stands and tries to fold her chair back down into a bed, but with BC's bed already down, she has no room to maneuver. She opens the stateroom door and steps out into the hall outside.

"Fold my bed down!" she yells in to BC. He sits up on his bed, reaches over to her chair and folds it down into place as a bed. With both beds in place, there is no room to walk in the stateroom. Fiza climbs through the door and up over onto her bed. She reaches back, shuts the stateroom door, and finally flops down.

"Wanna fuck?" she asks.

"Why not? Nothing else to do," BC answers.

About all we have in common now anyway. And what she does best, I suppose. I wonder if
her orgasms are lies, too? Know what? I don't care!

They kill a couple of days while the ship is en route to Wentworth Station. They hear periodic announcements from the Captain over the PA system, but none that catch their attention until on the third day they hear, "Father Bernard Campion to the purser's office, please. Father Bernard Campion. To the purser's."

BC freshens up and dresses in his basic black and collar, and heads to the public section of the ship. A couple of queries later and BC finds himself at the purser's office. He knocks and enters.

"Hello?" BC asks an apparently empty office.

"Hold on, be right there," a voice calls from an adjoining cabin. Then a thin face capped by a short shock of red hair emerges from around a doorway. "Yes?"

"I was paged?"

"Father Campion?"

"Yes. Are you the Purser? Who am I supposed to... what's this about?"

"I'm the purser," the man says, coming in to the room. He's a slight man, small frame, perfect for ship crew. He's wearing the ship's uniform, pale blue jumpsuit with red pin stripes. "Your docking request at Wentworth Station has been refused," he tells BC. "Wentworth station is a private station. Without their okay, this ship can't dock there. They've refused. Said there is no such ancestral claim or right. Sorry."

"Did you ask them nicely?" BC asks, already knowing the answer.

"Look, Father, it's my job to..."

"Sorry. I was trying to make a joke, inject some humor into the situation. Can I ask them myself?"

"That's the next usual option, actually."

"How long do I have to persuade them?"

"We'll be in the station's range for about a day, maybe 20 hours. After that we won't be able to dock and keep our schedule."

"Okay, I'll be right back. I have to get somebody."

"Your lady friend?" the purser asks, then blushes.

"My what? How do you know..."

"From your, um, your docking request, you know?" The man sounds as sheepish as he looks.
What the fuck is up with this guy? Maybe saw Fiza and got the hots for her or something.
Sure is acting weird.

"Yeah. Sure. Look, I'm going to get her and come back so we can ask again. Okay?" The purser nods. BC storms back to the stateroom and confronts Fiza.

"They won't let us dock! So much for your family connections."

"What?"

"The purser's call. Wentworth Station said no. We can't dock there! No such ancestral claim and shit. What are you trying to pull here, Fiza? What have you gotten me into this time, huh? Your family had nothing to do with this place, did they?"

"Don't have a heart attack, BC. It's just a misunderstanding. I just need to talk to them myself," Fiza says, eyes wide.

"Good, because we get the chance to do that. That's why I'm back here so soon, I came to get you. Get dressed and let's go. Now."

"Okay, okay, don't get so pushy. You are so ugly when you get like this, you know?" she rants. She pulls on a one-piece black dress.

"I don't like being lied to. Constantly. It's this thing I have about, I don't know, honesty. Interesting concept. You might try it some time," BC berates her.

"Jesus Christ, you must believe your own shit, 'cause now you're preaching, too. Just shut up, BC, and lead the way to wherever we gotta go to talk some sense into these fools," Fiza says, an extra dose of attitude thrown back at BC as she pushes past him out the door of the stateroom to wait outside in the corridor. BC passes her and they both head to the purser's.

"Okay, Red," BC says to the purser when they enter the office, "fire up the com unit, please." The little redheaded man is sitting behind his desk. Two other crewmen flank him on either side. All three men stare at Fiza, looking her up and down, obviously checking her out.
I'm usually not the jealous type, but these guys are way overboard.

"Excuse me!" BC says, moving a little in front of Fiza. She moves sideways and steps up next to him. Their eyes snap to him. "Did you even hear what I said?" The redhead nods, "Yes, Father." The two other men go back to ogling Fiza.
Too much.

"Wentworth Station," the com unit speaks. The screen stays dark, no video.

"Yes, Richard Wentworth, please," Fiza says before anyone else can speak.

"Fiza!" BC can't help blurting out.

"Who is calling?" the com asks.

"Please tell him it's Fiza calling?"

"A moment, please."

A moment appears to be about five minutes. Then a deep, rich, resonant voice comes out of the com.

"Fiza."

"Richard. Hello."

"They tell me you've come to visit. I find that hard to believe. Is it really you?"

"It's really me. Send video, okay?" Fiza asks the purser.

"Sending video signal," the purser says, touching a control on his desk.

"I'm surprised you're here," Wentworth says. His signal remains audio only.

"I have nowhere else to go."

"Yes. I could see where that could be true. You've burned every bridge you've ever crossed, haven't you? You've burned this one as well, I'm afraid. I wouldn't say you're exactly welcome here, either."

"I'd hate to have to sell my secrets to seek asylum somewhere else," Fiza says with a false air of regret.

"Are you trying to blackmail me, Fiza? I hope not. That would be dangerous. Even fatal. Be very careful what you say. Try to be more subtle, if you can comprehend the concept."

"Can we dock and talk about it?" Fiza asks Wentworth.

"Okay, you can stop here. But there is a price, and this time you'll have to pay up, my dear."

"Not the cops?" Fiza asks, alarmed.

"No," Wentworth laughs, "not the cops. My price, not theirs. But I will grant you my protection and asylum, for that price. Dock, and we'll talk about it, over dinner." BC nudges Fiza.

"Can my friend come over, too? He wants to check the place out, make sure I'm okay on your station. He's escorting me here."

"That him? A priest? Not your usual crowd, Fiza."

The crewmen in the room start to snicker. Wentworth yells over the com, "You men! Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing, sir, it's just that what you said reminded us of something we were talking about earlier that gave us a good laugh,” the little redheaded man says, leaning in towards the com.

"Really. Then share that with us now, won't you?" Wentworth’s voice demands. The crewmen are silent.

"Well, I'm waiting," Wentworth says over the com The silence continues.

"Well, if it's not that funny," Wentworth says, "shut the fuck up, okay? Where was I? Oh yes, bring your holy friend over for dinner as well. You'll be met at the ship dock when you arrive. Good-bye," Wentworth signs off.

Fiza turns to BC, excited. "See! We're in! I told you we would be."

"That price he mentioned sounded pretty steep, Fiza. Do you know what he meant by that?" BC

asks, shaking his head.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this...

"Not really. I figure I'll have to work for him or something." BC looks at the men, still undressing Fiza mentally.

I gotta say something.

"Do you guys mind?"

The crewmen look back and forth among themselves, until the purser looks at him and speaks.

"Sorry. She's sexy, huh?"

Fucking attitude, too. Little shit.

"You guys need some shore leave, or at least cold showers. Give it a rest, huh?"
Hear what I’m not saying: I don't want to have to kill you...

"Sorry,
Father
," the purser says, accenting "Father" in a strange way. "We'll dock in about an hour. We'll call you."

BC turns, grabs Fiza by the arm and propels them both out of the office.

"Someone jealous?" she says as they walk quickly back to their room.

"Hardly. But those guys were just rude. Shit, you just eat it up anyway, don't you?" BC accuses her.

"It's flattering. Sorry! Doesn't matter, we'll be off this ship soon. And on to Wentworth Station!"

"He didn't sound too excited to see you."

"No, he isn't. But I knew he still would, anyway," she says confidently.

"After you threatened him!” he protests. “Go ahead," BC lets her enter the stateroom ahead of him.

"Still a gentleman, huh? Thanks. Hey, stop worrying, we're in, man!"

"Right. We're in."

Whatever that means.

BC and Fiza cross a spacious walkway from their ship to Wentworth Station. BC marvels at the opulence already apparent.

This walkway and the airlocks are larger than most I've seen. The transparent top panels
let you see the whole station as you approach. Designed to stun and overwhelm, no doubt. Nice
digs. Nicer than Fortune Station by a mile.

Fortune Station was one of the earliest built private orbital stations. Wentworth Station is a newer construct, started around fifty years ago, BC figures, because the main cylinder of the station rotates to create gravity.

It had to have been built before artificial gravity was feasible. Course, the rest of it was
built afterwards, clearly.

The airlock in front of them, their entranceway into Wentworth Station, leads into a stationary section of the structure. The facade of this boxy part is constructed to look like an office building back on earth, like one of the skyscrapers in New York City. Artificial gravity reinforces the effect. The rotating main cylinder sits on top of the boxy section.

"Looks like a big camera, I've always thought," Fiza says. "Or a big metal dick. Just like Richard himself. A big Dick," she starts giggling at her own joke. She looks at BC for a reaction but he ignores her. She stops laughing. "Fine. Be like that."

They reach the airlock doors. Armed guards stand on both sides of the doors, dressed in a gold, red and black station uniform, a variation on the standard green uniforms of regular UTZ troops. The guard on the right motions them to head in through the airlock. BC notices the guards have UTZ insignia on their uniforms as well as Wentworth Station logos. After BC and Fiza walk past them, they fall in step behind BC and Fiza.

"No going back now, huh, BC?" Fiza asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"Just play nice, and let's try to get out of this alive, 'kay?" BC doesn't hide his growing anger over being played by Fiza yet again.

Can't hide this headache I'm feeling come on now, either. Just hope it's not a bad one…

like before.
Not now!

The airlock shushes shut behind their escorts. BC looks around a massive reception area.
Must be nice to be able to live like this, even out here. Place looks like a mansion in a
movie. All business outside, all pleasure inside. Nice.

"If you can afford it."

"What?" Fiza says.

"Huh?" BC asks.

"I asked you first. What did you just say?"

Did I say that out loud?

"Nothing. I was just appreciating the lovely black marble floor."

"Only the finest for Richard Wentworth, baby," Fiza says with sarcasm.

"Correct, Fiza," says an older man entering the reception area. He's dressed in a red and gold smoking jacket and dark pressed pants. His slippers let him approach BC and Fiza without their hearing. His dark hair is gray at the temples, set off in stark contrast to his light caramel skin. His features have the sort of generic, too perfect look BC's always noticed among those wealthy enough to have themselves cosmetically enhanced.

Gotta be Richard Wentworth. One of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the UTZ
,
right here.
Since the OPO works with the UTZ hierarchy, I gotta figure he knows something about
our operation. Wonder if he's an ally?

"Hello Fiza. Hello, Father. Welcome to my home. Won't you come with me?" He asks, then turns and walks across the room and down a corridor on the left.

BC notices Wentworth never looks back to make sure BC and Fiza are coming.
Clearly a man who expects to be followed. Might as well...

They follow Wentworth along a series of turns and corridors, finally arriving at what looks like an elevator door. He presses a button in the wall to the right side of the doors and they open, revealing a small room with four chairs.

"Come, sit down, and strap yourselves in. We're going up into the main section. The elevator has independent artificial g, so we won't feel it rise, turn, and match the cylinder's rotation. Quite ingenious. My father's top engineers designed it ages ago, still works. Go ahead, sit down." Wentworth sits and buckles himself in.

"The straps are just a precaution. Just in case the g lets go or something else goes wrong. Here we go."

Wentworth taps the controls built in to the arm of his chair. The doors close. The small room has no windows.

It feels like an elevator. A weird, big, sit down, strap in elevator. Can't be the only way up
there, too cumbersome for workers and anybody with any real business to take care of. Just the
luxurious way, I'd bet. And escorted by the man himself. Red carpet treatment!