Vatican Assassin (8 page)

I really don’t think these attacks were in response to the McEntyre Assassination. They
came too soon after. Their ships had to be on their way here well before I did the hit. Good
timing, though. Thanks to the proper spin, the public thinks they killed the governor. Beautiful!

The news reports on McEntyre’s assassination have been decidedly positive for the UTZ and the Vatican. Nita Bendix has been cast as the assassin, the betrayer.

She makes a great scapegoat, running just when it attracted the most suspicion and
blame.

The Cardinal enters the study.

“How are we today, Campion? Better?”

For the hundredth time, BC writes, “Fine” on his screen, and holds it up for the Cardinal to see.

“Good, then, good! Better and better each day, eh? We’ve got you in the daily prayers at Mass, Father. There’s some good folks praying for you. I do have some bad news, though. The UIN has attacked the Vatican again, earlier today! Pope Peter is fine, but they’ve damaged more of the priceless architecture of Vatican City. They’re barbarians!”

Again?! Well, this one they might blame on me...

BC writes, “Anyone hurt?”

“There were a few casualties,” the Cardinal pauses, thinking, “Oh yes, and the OPO called for you! I told them you were injured, couldn’t speak. They’d like you to check in with them when you can talk again.”

Wow, if the OPO is contacting the Cardinal to get to me they must be desperate! This new
attack, probably. They must figure it’s Bendix getting back to the UIN with her “proof”, exposing
us. I’ve gotta talk to the home office, see where I stand, make my case.

“Did you hear me, Campion?”

BC nods.

“Did you know, the UIN is maintaining a media blackout? They still haven’t said word one to anybody about any of this. ‘Unusually Silent’ the reports are all saying. Bloody Muslims. Probably just trying to ‘cultivate mystery’. Keep quiet except for blowing us up.”

BC nods again. The Cardinal seems to enjoy the fact BC can’t answer back.

“Their ‘jihad’, hmmph, all that hatred for us Christians. Supposedly, they worship the same God as we do. They’re supposed to. But Allah doesn’t sound like Our Father, if you know what I mean.”

BC shrugs.

What can I say? Nothing, obviously
.

“You know Campion, I like these one sided conversations. Almost enjoy your silence! Ha, too bad you’ll be talking again in no time... I’m kidding, of course, Campion!

“Laughter is the best medicine, so they say! I’ll check in again later.”

Wonderful. Just ducky. Can’t wait...

Time passes slowly for BC. The next two days seem to take at least a year to go by. All he can do is watch video or stare at the walls, the red and gold, the pictures of Jesus from all the world’s faiths. The Cardinal’s study is fine, but it’s not his style. Finally, after two days, an LSC comes to the Cardinal’s study with the news BC’s rooms are ready. BC is up and able to walk short distances, and walks himself back to his quarters.

The glare from the gold on the walls of that study was beginning to hurt my eyes and give
me headaches... Thank God I’m finally getting back into my own rooms. Can’t talk right, yet. But
I’ve still gotta try to get through to the Vatican.

BC opens the door to his stateroom and gasps. His Covert Communications Unit is out in plain sight, sitting on his folded-out desk. It’s sealed tight, looks like a small chest.
The repair crews probably didn’t know what it was when they came across it. But seeing it
just sitting out there in the open made my heart jump a beat.

He surveys the rooms, his surroundings. They’ve done okay, though he can see several spots where panels were replaced and seals rejoined. His bedroom is entirely new construction.
Would have been bad dreams if I’d been here when they hit. Good thing I got to go on that
wild goose chase. Right. Sure.

BC sweeps the room for bugs and sets a scrambler. He can’t be sure there
weren’t
UIN agents in the construction crew.

Never can be too paranoid in this business.

The room checks out clean. He opens up and switches on the CCU. The screen lights up with the waiting pattern. He opens the voice channel, turns on the visual.

“Jove, this is Diana, are you receiving?”

A face appears on the screen, an old black man wearing a white skullcap and robes. Pope Peter the Second.

“Well, hello, Diana, I was walking by the receiver as you signaled in. Nice of you to finally call. You know it’s not nice of you not to call your father once in a while. Especially your holy father.”

Holy shit! The old man himself!

“Hello, sir. Good to see you. I haven’t been able to speak, you see...”

“Yes, yes, heh, you sound like you’ve been drinking! Don’t worry about it. I heard all about your accident from the Cardinal. Now... what’s the real story?”

BC tells him about Nita Bendix recording him as he called in on his CCU, his chase after her, and her escape on the UIN ship. He decides to keep the unknown ship to himself, for the time being. Peter stays silent, considering, as BC spins his tale. There’s a long silence after BC finishes. Then the pope rebukes him.

“They know you did the hit, Campion, they must, or they wouldn’t be hitting us back.”

“With all due respect, sir, they were already on their way to hit us, before I even did the hit. The timing is wrong. One couldn’t have triggered the other because they were already on their way to attack.”

“Is that so? That may be true for that first attack, but, as you’ve probably heard by now, they’ve hit us again, just last night. By now there’s been certainly enough time for them to have digested the information that woman must have brought to them.
You’ve
brought them down on us this time!”

“I’m... I’m sorry, sir. But it’s not my fault entirely, sir, You know this is certainly a situation that’s been brewing...”

Pope Peter cuts him off, “Did she get anything else?”

“Well, I’m not sure, sir. She might have.”

“How so?”

“Well, when I was coming up from the access tunnels after doing the hit, I hit her with a hatch door I was opening. I thought I hit her over the head and knocked her out, at the time. I thought it was just random coincidence, that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time when I kicked the hatch in. It was the first time I had ever seen her. I wondered why a Lunar Security Cop was there, figured she was on rounds. Now, obviously, I can’t be sure of any of that.”

“This is bad, BC my boy. They may have you. Your entire mission could be compromised. Your cover could be blown entirely. I thought you were better than this.”

Holy Shit.

“Pope Peter, sir, look, they haven’t even said anything. They’re maintaining media silence. Wouldn’t they have blown this open? If they had me on this, they’d be broadcasting it loud and proud, getting all the mileage they could out of it. Their silence says they don’t have anything more than they’ve had before, even if they’re attacking us straight on. C’mon, sir, you know I’m better than that. Father, forgive me!”

“Don’t get cute on me, boy, I won’t have it,” Peter snaps at BC.

“Sorry. But it’s not right to pin this all on me!”

“Of course it isn’t. But I’ve been wanting to blame somebody, and you’re elected. Plus, you’ve been incommunicado, and that’s been frustrating. I had to let you have it.

“Tough love, my boy. Tough love,” the old man chuckles to himself, then looks BC in the eye across the miles.

“Look, your cover may well be blown, BC. They may just be waiting, holding on to the information, holding on to any damaging evidence they have, waiting until the most damaging moment possible to let it out.”

“Then why not now, to justify their attacks, to turn the tide in the war by making us out to be murderers?”

“I don’t know. We can’t know, can’t be sure. But they are hitting NcC targets. They’ve got to know about Vatican involvement in UTZ war efforts, BC.”

“With all due respect, sir, who doesn’t?”

Pope Peter lets out a small laugh. “Some know we are involved... but most could never guess to what extent. If you’ve opened us up, exposed us, the general public most likely will not understand or sympathize with our means to achieving their ends.”

“So, then... what now? Should I come back?”

“No! No, that would be suspect, too suspicious. What I want you to do right now is forget about the OPO, just for the time being, and get under your cover, completely. For the time being, I want you to be the best Public Relations flack the Moon has ever seen! Issue some press releases, follow the Cardinal around every day, and accompany him to every event. Be the spin doctor you’re supposed to be!”

“I guess I can do that, sir.”

“You will do that, Campion, those are your orders, make no mistake. In the meantime, I’ll have the office find you some low-key, low profile assignments that keep you off the UIN radar. All they’ll see is the public you, the flack-hack. We’ll be in touch soon, Diana. Jove out.”

“Diana Out.”

Damn. This is gonna suck. Tough love, my ass.
By Jove.

Two weeks. Two Fucking Weeks!

BC has heard nothing from the OPO in two weeks.

In the two weeks, the Vatican’s been hit one more time, another barrage as fierce as the last two, another UIN sneak attack. The Moon has not been hit again.

BC has done his PR flack job, standing loyally by the Cardinal’s side, issuing four press releases in the two weeks, and generally playing his role as the Vatican PR Man. He’s laid low, not even taking the governor up on his lunch invite as of yet. And with the OPO

out of touch, BC’s only been getting the UTZ approved version of events from the news reports. The UIN continues its media blackout. The media speculates on the motives behind the UIN attacks. Most news reports attribute the new wave of UIN attacks, including the hits on the Vatican, to further religious extremism on the part of the UIN. The analysts, warning against repeating the mistakes of the past, say the UIN has gone beyond politics, bringing religion into the war.
But it’s always been in it, religion has. It’s what it’s been all about. Well, religion and
money. Nothing changes. We’re still savages, cavemen in nicer pelts, when you get right down to
it, no matter how much technology we use, no matter how far into space we go. Cavemen in
space. Heh, like that one. Clubbing each other over the head with our high tech clubs.
Ah, yet another fun-filled day of flackery...

As he enters the Cardinal’s office he sees the Cardinal is waiting for him.

“Ah, Campion, good. You’re a wanted man today, you know.”

Wanted? What the fuck?

“What?”

“Yes, you see, the Pope himself has requested a call from you. And the Governor says you’re supposed to do lunch sometime, and he’d like to know if you can meet him today. You’re wanted by some pretty fancy company, Campion.”

You bastard. Wanted, my ass. No need to scare me like that.

“Thank you, sir. Would you excuse me?”

“Certainly.”

“I’ll check back with you later, Cardinal.”

BC heads back to his rooms to check in with the Vatican, his heart beating faster than normal.
Wanted! Jeesh, when he said that I felt my stomach flip. Didn’t think it was the good kind
of wanted. Getting too paranoid. Hope it doesn’t show.

Glad to hear the Vatican finally called. Through the Cardinal again. Must be to keep up
appearances. God, I hope there’s a new assignment! And I guess I really should have lunch with
Edwards. He’s not so bad. I actually kind of like the guy.

Cardinal M’Bekke answers when BC powers up the CCU and contacts the Vatican. M’Bekke is an old friend of BC’s, one of his first instructors in the OPO.

“Campion! How are you? I heard you got banged up pretty good?”

“I’m okay, M’Bekke, I’ve had some time to heal. Seems like years...” BC plays up a yawn for dramatic effect.

“Well, this should cure your boredom. I have an assignment for you.”

“Am I coming back to Earth?”

“No, we want to keep you in your current PR assignment on the Moon for now. The less waves you make, the better. We still don’t know how much the UIN knows about you.”

“So, then... What? Another assignment here on the Moon? Wouldn’t that be just as risky?”

“No, not on the Moon, or on Earth. We need you to travel from Luna to one of the old orbital stations. Used to belong to the Sultan of Brunei.”

“No kidding? Who’s it belong to now?”

“Nobody, really. It’s been officially deserted for years. Place is called Fortune Station, built almost a hundred years ago. We’re sending complete info via courier, already on the way. Look for a package tomorrow.”

“So, if nobody’s there, why are you sending me there? There are easier ways to get rid of me, M’Bekke!” BC laughs.

“BC, would we ever do something like that to you?” M’Bekke says in a falsely sweet tone, then laughs, “Don’t answer!”

“Flattery will get you nowhere...”

M’Bekke’s tone darkens, “The station’s been taken over by a Neo-Christian cult. They’ve been squatting the station for over five years.”

“A cult, huh? What do you want me to do, evict them? Why now?”

“We don’t care who lives there. But their leader has become a threat.”

“How so?”

“He’s a charismatic former Cardinal whose followers are devoted to him. His radical interpretation of the Bible marginalized him back in the nineties in the Roman Catholic Church, part of the whole back to the roots thing ten years ago. Something in him snapped during the reunification and he broke away from the church. He later gathered his followers and left Earth for Fortune Station, after Al-Salid declared Jihad on the Earth.”

“So, they’ve been there five years?”

“Just over.”

“Guess they’ll know the place pretty well by now. Are there any plans, blueprints, anything?”