Vatican Assassin (28 page)

After a minute, the doors open again. A new corridor opens up in front of them, this one with a plush red carpet running down the middle of a black marble floor.

Wentworth undoes his chair's straps and gets up first. BC and Fiza undo their seat belts and follow him out.

"You see? No sense of weirdness, vertigo or free fall! Just like an elevator ride! Now please wait here," he says.

As BC watches Richard Wentworth walks away down the corridor. BC notices again he never looks back.

Fiza says something under her breath that BC can't make out.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just those stupid androids of Richard's. They always creep me out."

"That was an android?"

"You thought that was him?" Fiza starts laughing at BC. "Man, you do have delusions of grandeur, don't you? You think he'd come see us in like that himself? I thought you'd been places, Campion? Don't tell me you've never seen a mechanical manservant?" She laughs again.

"Never one that good, evidently. And I've never met the real Wentworth," BC protests.

"You'll know it when you do. Trust me. He has a certain, I don't know… charisma, I guess," she says, losing herself in her own thoughts and memories as she trails off.

"Wonderful. Can't wait to meet the man."

"Here come his guards. Should be soon, now."

Two guards lead them down the long corridor to a large vaulted hall. A huge semicircular table dominates the center of the room, a giant "C" laid flat. The guards motion for BC and Fiza to enter the mouth of the "C" and they walk into the center.

Ten well-dressed, evidently powerful people sit along the outside edge of the table. Each has attendants hovering behind them. It is apparently dinnertime, as each of the ten has a plate of food in front of them. A personal guard stands directly behind each diner’s chair to watch their backs. Servants bring food and drink to the table through the center of the “C”. There is a continual flow of servers passing by BC and Fiza on both sides as they stand in the center of the circle. No one speaks to them at first.

Wow, hey, this is great, watching a bunch of rich fucks fill their faces. These folks dredge
up all that hostility I thought I’d come to grips with. I hate ‘em just looking at ‘em. And I was
doing so well at not judging...

BC sees the man who resembles the android sitting directly in front of them, at the center of the outside edge of the "C". He is busy eating some pinkish piece of meat, ripping chunks of it off the main slab on his plate and chomping them down.

He doesn't bother to notice them standing there until after the meat is gone and he's downed a glass of red wine. This takes about fifteen minutes. Then he looks up and speaks. His voice booms out, amplified by some hidden method not readily apparent to BC.

"Fiza. It really is you. You've got balls, girl. Sorry about the language, Father. If you really are a priest. You guys can fuck these days, huh?"

BC is caught off guard, no doubt Wentworth's intent. "What?"

"Purser on that ship you came here on had a camera on your room. You guys were the porno hit of the voyage, evidently. Fiza doing what she does best, as always. But I don't know you,
Father
. If you are a priest."

"I am. You Wentworth?"

"What do you think?

“You two hungry?"

Before they can answer, Wentworth is motioning for two people seated at his left to move over. They give Wentworth briefly indignant looks, and then slide their seats over. Wentworth motions to someone and chairs are brought for BC and Fiza.

“Come around! Come around and sit down.”

Wentworth gestures magnanimously with his right arm. He nods. One of the servers escorts them over and they are seated next to Wentworth, BC directly to Wentworth's left, Fiza next to BC on his left. Clean plates are placed in front of each of them, and servers suddenly appear on the other side of the table with an assortment of dishes to choose from. BC picks a broccoli and cheese dish, while Fiza grabs her own pink slab of meat. BC then opts for a light white wine while Fiza sips a cabernet sauvignon.
This doesn't suck. Wonder if that meat is really beef? Broccoli must be grown on board.
This is good! Haven't eaten like this since Rome.
And look at the other guests! That news guy,
what's his name, from the UTZ network news. His date. Or maybe she's with that other guy. I
think he's a CEO, another board member. DeMar or something like that. That woman over next
to Fiza is Sabine something or other. A Pop singer on Wentworth's recording label. Must be a
lesbian, looks like that young little fawn next to her is her date. Too bad, the little one is yummy.
Should have known something was up when the purser and his buddies acted so weird.
How'd Wentworth know, though?
Oh man, headache really coming on...

"So, Father, how do you know Fiza?" Wentworth is talking to him. BC tries to focus.

"We, um, we go back. A long way. I hadn't seen her in years, until she showed up a few days ago." BC closes his eyes, trying to wish the headache away.

I do not need this headache shit right now...

"Are you all right, Father?" Wentworth asks.

BC opens his eyes. "I'm fine."

"You don't look well," Wentworth says with some hint of concern.

"I have a bad headache. That's all."

"And Fiza? How are you?" Wentworth smiles an unhealthy smile at Fiza.
That sounded almost sarcastic. He certainly didn't mean that at all. And she's not
answering?

BC turns and looks at Fiza, whose head is lolling back and forth as if she's about to pass out.

"Wha?" she says, trying to open and keep open her eyes.

Too much wine? That's not like Fiza. What goes on here? Damn, my head!

"Whadyadotome?" Fiza slurs. "Icantmovemyarms! I... unh," she passes out, chin dropping to her chest. The guard behind her chair pulls her back from the table. He waves a second guard over and they lift Fiza, one on each side, and drag her out between them.

Wentworth watches them then turns to BC. "Miss Fiza appears to be tired. We'll put her to bed. She'll be fine. We'll give her a job here when she wakes up, make her useful. You can leave on the next ship back to the Moon, Father. Your work here is done.

“Father?"

What the fuck is going on here?!

"What..." is all BC gets out before he passes out, too.

BC wakes up in the passenger/co-pilot seat of a small two-seater transport ship cruising through space. He's strapped in. The pilot is about foot away, humming to himself as he runs through a maintenance check on the main screen in front of him.

"Who the... where are we? Who the hell are you? Where are we going? What the fuck is going on here!" BC explodes as he wakes up.

"So many questions... and such a mouth, Padre." The pilot is on the heavy side, crewcut hair, looks old military. He smiles at BC. "They said you weren't your normal priest. Horny. Heard you made quite a tape."

BC just stares at him.

I'd kill him but I don't know if I can fly this thing.

He keeps smiling at BC. "I work for Mr. Wentworth. He asked me to give you a ride home. That's who I am and where we're going. Couple of your questions, anyways."

"Why did he drug me and Fiza? Where is she?"

"From what they tell me, no one drugged you. You complained of a headache and dropped. Passed out right there at Mr. Wentworth's table! Not too polite, Padre," he chuckles. "Miss Fiza, she was sedated so she could get some rest before starting her new job for Mr. Wentworth. That's what I'm told, anyways."

"I want to talk to Wentworth!" BC demands.

"Sure, I'll call him. He said you'd probably want to talk to him when you woke up, said he'd take your call. You're lucky, Padre, he doesn't do that for most people. Doesn’t always do it for me, anyways. Hold on, I'll call him." The pilot gets Wentworth on the com. Wentworth appears on the video screen in front of BC.

"Father. Good to see you again. Glad you've recovered from your migraine. When you had your spell, I thought you'd want to return home as soon as possible. Drex was kind enough to do the honors." Wentworth smiles at BC over the com.

The pilot speaks up, "My pleasure, Mr. Wentworth."

BC interjects. "Was it a ‘spell’ or did you drug me?"

"You passed out, Father. I had nothing to do with it."

"Like Fiza did? You going to try to tell me she just 'passed out' too?"

"No. She I had drugged. Guaranteed her cooperation. You I have no interest in whatsoever."

"Why did you drug Fiza? What has she done to you?" BC protests.

"Quite a lot, actually. Most of which I certainly wouldn't discuss with a priest. Unless I was on my deathbed, perhaps. If you even are a priest. Still a question in my mind. Especially after seeing that tape. Never trust a Purser, Father! Hey Drex, when you were Purser on the Wentworth commercial liner, you ever secretly record people in their rooms having sex?" The pilot laughs, "All the time, Mr. Wentworth, all the time. People make the funniest faces!

Everybody records passengers, it's common practice. At least around the crews I've been on, anyways."

“Did you ever record me, then, Drex?”

“Oh, no sir, I know that would have gotten me killed, I bet. Or fired, anyways,” he says, laughing.

Wentworth laughs, "Something to keep in mind in the future, eh, Father? So. Are you really a priest?"

"I'm really a priest. I work for the Vatican. You can ask the Pope himself."

"You think I can't? I can call your bluff right now,
'Father'
. I've known Peter for years."

"So have I. I work for him
personally
." BC gives the last word more weight.

"You're one of his men? You? You mean OPO?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, sir," BC says with emphasis.
Not on an open com channel!

"I see."

"What about Fiza?"

"Why? Is she of interest to the O... to your people?" Wentworth corrects himself.

"She's not, no. It's more, um, personal."

"I'm sorry, then, Father. She'll be staying here, working for me. It would be best if you forgot all about her.

“She isn't a good person, Father. She screws over a lot of people, sometimes the wrong people. And she owes a lot of the wrong people a lot of money. She owes
me
a lot of money. I'm giving her the chance to work it off, all the while keeping anyone else from coming after her. She'll work for me to stay alive."

"What kind of work?" BC asks.

Wentworth lets out a low chuckle, "There really only one thing Fiza's any good at, as you well know, Father. We'll put those skills to work full time."

"She won't..."

"She will! Because she does it or she dies, it's very simple, Father. She'll be pumped full of drugs to keep her happy. Best she can hope for."

What a fucking slimeball.

"You're an evil man, Wentworth."

"Evil? I've been called worse. And 'evil' is such an outdated term, an outmoded notion, a quaint superstition from the past. Is self interest evil? Is pleasure evil? We all serve ourselves first, even you,
Father
.

“Evil is entirely relative. It all depends on your perspective. The OPO perspective no doubt allows you to do things with a clear conscience that others would label evil. In fact, you have no basis for calling me evil given what I know you do!"

"Look, no talk of the O word. O-kay?!"

"Listen, you fool, this is a secure channel, I'm not stupid! I know a lot of you in the OPO are killers. I know. I've given the orders. I know Peter, but I don't know you. Let me tell you, Campion, this is not getting off on the right foot for you, see? Because I'm going to find out who you are. That will make things worse for you, if you continue to annoy me." A cruel edge has entered Wentworth’s voice.

"Now look here, I..." BC tries to protest. Wentworth continues, cutting BC off sharply.

"You are going back to the moon. I'll find out who you are soon enough. After I do, you'll be no trouble to me. No trouble to me at all, understand. Anyone I know, I can keep tabs on. And I will. Don't worry about Fiza, Father. Don't cross me over her. She isn't worth it! She's a user, she uses people. She used me, she used you. Now I'll use her, and let several others in my employ use her as well. Why don't you just forget about her, Father? It'll be for the best. That's the last time I ask. This conversation is over. Good-bye, Father. Drex, switch to secure mode."

"Yes, sir." The pilot puts a headset on and switches off the main audio. BC's screen goes dark. BC listens as the pilot receives instructions. All he hears on this end are a lot of "uh huh"s and "yup"s.
Wonder if they're telling him to kill me. Pleasant thought.

"Right. Transport out." The pilot takes off the headset and turns main audio back on. "We have a slight problem, Padre," he says to BC.

Here it comes...

"The UIN is on the move, some kind of major ship movement. They have a handful of ships on this flight path, so I'm going to detour out and around them. It's going to take us longer to get there, but we'll get there alive, anyways."

"What about your orders to kill me and dump the body?" BC jokes.

"What? Oh, you're joking. But that's not funny. You'd be dead already. And I wouldn't be talking to you, not like this, like we are now. If I have to kill you I don't want to know you," Drex says, shaking his head.

"I know what you mean." BC says.

And I do. You are so right...

"Yeah, right. Sure you do. Thanks for your sympathy, Padre, anyways."
You'd be surprised, big guy.

The pilot keeps talking.
"You don't trust Mr. Wentworth, and that's okay. I don't always trust him myself, but he pays me very well, so I do as he says, anyways. He says take you back to the Moon. So that's where we're going. Go back to sleep if you want. This is going to take a while." The pilot turns to his control panel and gets to work adjusting their course. BC stares out the window at the impossibly dense field of stars.