Vatican Ambassador (7 page)

I'm sitting right next to Fujima! Cool. Japanese CEO. And there's DeMag, next to him. Wow.
This is something! Rarefied air... Surprised I can still breathe!

He keeps his composure and nods at Fujima. Fujima looks at him, and moves his head nearly imperceptibly.

No deference, I get it, fine. None expected, really.

"Father Campion?" An amplified voice gets his attention. A gray haired man opposite BC at the horseshoe shaped table speaks up.

"I'm Klaus Folsom, head of Folsom Industries and current chair of the UTZ Council," he says. BC

marvels again at the hidden systems that allow him to hear the man sitting over ten yards away. BC

recognizes him from the news and the dossiers he's seen. "Welcome to our meeting. Thank you for accepting Mr. Wentworth's invitation."

"Hmmph," BC says, trying not to laugh.

Folsom turns. "Wentworth?" he asks with arched eyebrow.

Wentworth merely shrugs.

Folsom nods, "I see. As always, Richard's methods are nefarious, I'm sure. But he has gotten you here, and you seem none the worse for wear. Let me thank you, then, for being here, perhaps in spite of him," Folsom says, looking at Wentworth, then back at BC.

"At any rate, we have business to attend to. We, the UTZ Council, are turning to you, as an acting Vatican Ambassador, to help us restore relations with the Holy See. Our usually stalwart and reliable ally, the New catholic Church, has become… ‘incommunicado’ of late," Folsom says, laying it all out in the open.

"As I told Wentworth, I'm not sure there's much I can do," BC tells Folsom, across the gap. "I don't know if I can help you. They're not talking to me much, either."

"Yes, he told us that's what you'd said," Folsom says, insinuating BC has not told all. BC shakes his head.

"Look, I'm not lying to you, I have no reason to. I've pretty much been on my own since Pope Peter was killed. I've kept the Vatican Mission on the Moon operating. I've rebuilt the place from the ground up, after the UIN beat the living shit out of it last Christmas. But for all intents and purposes, it's an independent operation. After the attacks, the Vatican put me in charge as Acting Ambassador and told me to rebuild. And then they went quiet."

BC pauses.

The silence echoes with the word "quiet" as the sound of BC's voice is relayed around the table and echoes back off the chamber's distant walls.

BC continues. "My communications have not been answered. I make reports, I send them in, but I hear nothing back. I don't know what else to tell you."

"Did you know," De Mag begins, and then clears his throat. He sits just to BC's right, on the other side of Fujima. BC turns to see him speak.

"Did you know you're the only OPO operative that we know to still be alive, Father Campion?"
What?! Really? Well, they can't know about M'Bekke, then, can they?

"There are a few others we suspect of being OPO, but their membership has never been confirmed. Probably why they're still alive. But of the agents we know, and we in this room, Campion," DeMag looks around at his fellow CEOs. “We know many. You are the only one still breathing. You're high profile... but lucky? What is your secret?"

What did he just say? That headache is starting to come back on strong... shit! Got to keep it
at bay. Not now!

"Are you all right, Campion?" Wentworth asks. "Headache? We all know about your headaches. What a terrible affliction for an assassin."

Shit!

"You didn't..." BC starts to ask.

"Nothing's been done to you, Campion," Wentworth assures him.

"Nothing but club me over the head," BC says as he tries to will the headache away. Folsom speaks up.

"Gentlemen?"

Ahhh... it's going away! Good!

"It's nothing. I'm fine," BC says, trying to regain his composure.

"What happened to the OPO, Father Campion?" Fujima asks from just beside him. BC looks at him directly as he answers. "I don't know, sir. Maybe it died when Pope Peter died. I've heard nothing. As I told you, I've been running pretty much an independent operation the last three months."

"Keeping up appearances?" Folsom asks, drawing BC's attention.

"I suppose so," BC nods, "Finding something to do, finding a way to move on, to honor the dead by rebuilding, not giving up, that sort of thing."

Folsom nods. "So you're independent, now. Why not join us, come work for us? Give up the charade," he says, gesturing at BC's collar and clothes.

`"You could do well in the UTZ Security Force."

"Really," BC replies.

Don't want to sound too eager. Don't really want to do it, either. Wonder how serious they
are? See if I can get away with playing dumb...

"What, would I get my own ship? Make me a Captain or something?" BC plays the chucklehead. Folsom chuckles, "Not exactly."

"What then?"

"We want you to stay where you are. Keep doing what you're doing, for now. See what the Vatican does, watch the Vatican through your special channels, and then report back to us."

"You want me to be a double agent?" BC asks them.

Wentworth leans forward and speaks, "How can you be a double agent when we're all on the same side?"

That kind of fuzzy logic is going to bring my headache back. At least they're buying the
dumber version of me that I'm selling, so far, we'll see...

"Interesting. Can I think about this?" he asks Folsom, "Or will you have Wentworth and his goons

'persuade' me again?"

Folsom shakes his head. "Persuasion only goes so far. You're of no use to us as an agent if you're working against your will. The rest of us don't necessarily agree with Mr. Wentworth's methods," he says, finishing with clear disdain.

"You may not like my methods," Wentworth says to Folsom, "But you always like my results."

"I like what works," Folsom agrees. "Everybody uses everybody else, Father Campion. Make no mistake. But it's nothing personal, it's just business."

"Sad outlook you've got there," BC says despite himself.

"You think so? I think it's realistic," Folsom tells him. "Think about it. We all use each other. That's life. Varying degrees of use and utility, Father. We 'like' each other only insofar as we are useful to each other. Even lovers are really only useful to each other, perhaps in the most sublime of ways, but it is still utility all the same. Mutual Utility. The use to which you put a lover is to make you feel good, to feel wanted, to feel loved, whatever that means. So why not agree to use each other?"

"Well, sure, maybe I'll work with you... But I'm not going to fuck you, so don't get any weird ideas," BC

jokes. The table erupts in a dull roar of chuckling.

"Does that mean you're with us?" Folsom asks him as the murmuring dies down.
Calling my bluff... why not play through?

"Sure." I'll let you know if I hear anything." BC looks around the table. "Does that mean I can go home, now?"

"Home being where?" Folsom asks.

BC laughs, "You know, that's a very good question. But these days I guess I mean the Vatican Mission on the Moon. I built the place, so I guess it feels like home."

"Sure," Folsom tells him; "you can go. We'll have Wentworth's people bring you back."

"Yes, and then we can get on to the next agenda item. How does it feel to be just another agenda item, Campion?" Wentworth pushes BC's buttons. Folsom shuts him down.

"You're always so kind, Richard. Please see that Father Campion is returned safely to the Moon. Without another bump on the head. If at all possible. Thank you, Father Campion. You are of more importance to us than Richard lets on. You are... useful, at any rate. For now."

"Great. So, how do we get in touch? How would you like me to report to you?" BC asks.

"Contact us through Wentworth. Let him know we need to talk, and he'll arrange a meeting, or whatever is appropriate." Folsom turns to Wentworth, "Won't you, Richard?" Wentworth nods to Folsom, "Absolutely." He turns to BC, “I’ll have Bruno see to it on your way out. We'll give you one of our secure com units, for emergency use only."

"Thanks," BC says, trying not to let his sarcasm slip through. "So," BC looks around, "I can go?"

"You can go," Folsom says.

"Bruno!" Wentworth bellows, aided by the amplification. Bruno appears. "Please escort Father Campion back to the ship, and then back to his place on the moon. We want to be sure he makes the trip safe and sound... don't let a hair on his head get mussed," Wentworth says, with sarcasm of his own. BC gets up, surveys his surroundings a final time, then turns and walks away from the table full of the most powerful people in the world.

In the universe… maybe. At least in OUR universe they are. But I think I did okay, held my
own… at least I survived...

BC and Bruno make their way back through the station corridors to Wentworth’s waiting ship. looks around as Bruno guides him.

Don’t see any other people, really… Where would Fiza be? Can I get free of my buddy Bruno
here long enough to look around?

“Is there a place I can go to the bathroom?” BC asks the goon.

“You can go back on the ship. We’re almost there,” Bruno grunts.

Maybe I could make a break for it.

“Hey!” Bruno grunts at BC. “Slow down!”

Somehow, that doesn’t seem like a viable alternative…

BC walks on next to Wentworth’s thug.

Not this time, then. But now that I know you’re alive, Fiza… I’ll what? Rescue you? Come
back for you next time?

Bruno sticks by BC’s side all the way to the airlock. He shuts the airlock door behind BC as he boards the ship to leave Wentworth Station.

Next time, then…

The trip back to the Moon takes just under eight hours. Relatively fast. BC nods off in his stateroom during the trip, coming to as Wentworth’s ship clunks into its berth at the port at Lunar Prime.
Eight hours, again… Isn’t that just like the UTZ Council? Keeping the fastest ships for
themselves!

BC disembarks through Wentworth’s private bay and makes his way through the Lunar Prime spaceport. He finds a porter unit to take his luggage back to the Vatican Mission. As he passes queued up outgoing passengers at one of the public carriers counters, he spots Marc Edwards in line. BC walks over to say hello.

"Marc! How are you? What are you doing here? Where are you off to?" BC asks as he shakes his hand. Edwards laughs, "Too many questions at once, BC! I'm going away for a while. I don't have that many responsibilities right now, so I'm gonna go visit some family back on Earth, take a break. Maybe do the tourist thing and see a few sights. A vacation! Imagine that!

“How are you doin'?"

"Don't ask." BC sighs, changes the subject, "You know, Marc, I'm still stunned people voted that terrorist into office over you."

"I don't know, BC. Is it really that surprising? They never really voted me
in
in the first place, did they?”

Edwards sighs. “They got me by default when Meredith died. Now, they’ve got Daniel. Guess they like the McEntyres," Edwards says, defeat resounding in his voice.

Damn, the guy doesn't deserve this...

Edwards perks up, "Hey, I saw you came in on that UTZ Yacht! Wentworth's ship! Traveling with some pretty fancy company, aren't you?"

Pretty slimy company, actually…

"Not really. He wanted to meet with someone connected with the Vatican. I guess these days, I'm the most accessible. I'm convenient, acting ambassador and all. But I couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know."

Edwards’ turn at the counter comes. He steps up and orders, "One to New York. Thank you."

"That's Liner 95. It's leaving soon. You only have two minutes!" the woman behind the counter tells Edwards. "Gate Seven, Mr. Edwards. You'll have to hurry!" She clears his bags through and pushes the ticket into his hand.

Edwards looks at BC, goes to shake his hand, but then decides to give him a hug. They pat each other on the back.

"Thanks, BC. Ya’ know, for stickin’ by me and all,” Edwards says, stepping back. He shakes his head.

“Man, I appreciate everything you did, your advice… Thank you, BC.” Edwards smiles a half-hearted smile.

He lifts his carry-on bag. “Hey, I gotta run!" He turns and runs for Gate Seven. "I'll see you sometime!" he shouts at BC over his shoulder.

BC picks up something in his tone. "How long are you gone for?" BC shouts back.

"I don't know. A while. I'll be in touch. I gotta go!" he yells as he runs.

"Have a good time," BC says knowing there's no way Edwards can still hear him. But somehow he does, and turns to wave. Then Edwards disappears into the crowd heading for the departure gates. BC turns and heads for the Vatican Mission.

I hate to see that guy go. He was one of the good ones. Maybe it's because he
didn't
get elected
into office. Somehow that let him do a better job. Plus he was a real friend… I don't have many
true friends.

Speaking of friends… I've got to find M'Bekke. And then find something to give the UTZ to
string them along.

Purposes and missions, I like it!

It's good to have goals to accomplish!

BC enters the main dome and takes in the surroundings. The bareness is harsh: the old trees gone forever, the old growth dead and removed. But there are new plantings around the central pool and on the bridges. The new dome itself is actually clearer than the original, yet made of stronger material.
The crowd isn’t quite as ‘bustling’ as it used to be… still not as many people here. Still, they
are
here, still running on errands, hustling to work or whatever. Each person a planet, spinning in its
own orbit, shuffling off to jobs, other pressing destinations… Some with their heads a swivel...
Gotta be tourists… Wandering aimlessly… ducking into stores around the perimeter wall.
And then there are some people you'd rather not see at all. McEntyre! And he’s looking this
way. He’s coming this way! Aw, hell.