Vatican Assassin (25 page)

were some music star. She almost squeals when she says, “I knew it! Holy shit! Do you kill people?

When did you become OPO?” She drops back down and snuggles back up close. BC feels her trembling in excitement.

Cat’s out of the proverbial bag. Might as well...

“I was recruited into the OPO three years ago, in 2106. The OPO began digging up the dirt on the priests who came into the New catholic Church from fringe denominations like mine. Whenever they found someone like me with a checkered past they’d use that to ‘encourage’ us to join the OPO. It was join or be brought up on all your old charges, for most of us. And then, you don’t leave the OPO. Once you’re in, you’re in. You’re either in, or you’re dead, plain as that.”

“Rough job. That collar chafe, then?”

“A little.”

“So, what do you do for them? You kill people? Are you an assassin? How many people have you killed?” Her breath is hot on the back of his ear.

She can barely contain herself. She’s almost turned on by this shit...

“I can’t say. The OPO is supposed to be involved in public relations,” BC says in mock seriousness.

“Yeah, like anyone believes that. Everyone knows the OPO is like the pope’s secret police.”

“Not me. I’m a simple spin doctor.”

“Right. Last time I checked, they didn’t have to keep spin doctors on the job with death threats. You’re as much a spin doctor as you are a priest. It’s funny, though, I never thought of you as an assassin or a spy.”

“Why not?”

“You’re too much of an old school con man. Assassin, spy, that’s too respectable. But, then, look at you. You, a fucking priest! Good thing they don’t have that nasty ol’ celibacy thing anymore...”

Fiza disappears beneath the sheets and BC decides his storytelling is done as his mind goes elsewhere. Later, Fiza talks BC into going out for lunch.

“If anyone sees us, tell them I’m an old friend who’s in visiting and I made you come out to lunch even though you’re sick. It’s all true, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

BC mulls their conversations over as they walk through the main dome.
I’ve already told her way too much. I could just kill her. But there’s no holy justification
for that, though, no holy orders. I could justify it as necessary for covering my tracks, but then
they might kill me for getting sloppy.

Maybe I am... Getting sloppy.

Fiza looks around as they walk, making a show of taking in the surroundings. “Look at those pine trees! They look like fucking green toilet brushes!”

“Nice. Maybe watch your language out in public with a priest?” BC asks.

“Right,” she agrees, ignoring him. “You know what I mean, the way they’re so straight up like that?” Her attention shifts, “Let’s cross the pond!” she shouts. She starts to run towards the central pool and the nearest walkway. BC has to quicken his step to catch up.

“I didn’t think I’d find a place like this here. So wet, and lush. So much nicer than Mars.”

“Still sticking to that story? I think it’s your turn to tell some truth. I won’t believe most of what you tell me. Safer that way. But I’d love to hear your story so far.”

“Why won’t you believe me.”

“Because you lie. And there haven’t been any non Moslems on Mars in the last two years because the UIN killed them all!”

“Let’s go sit down somewhere. I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.”

“Fine. How about that place, the French one?”

“Nah, I hate French. Polynesian?”

“Sure.”

They make their way to a little Hawaiian themed Cafe just off the atrium. They sit and look at menus. After they order, Fiza defends herself. “It wasn’t easy being on Mars. I had to hide. I dyed my hair. I had to wear a veil!”

I could almost believe her.

“Right.”

Their food arrives. They drop the discussion and dive in to their lunch, both of them hungry. Their silent feast continues until a familiar voice calls from the atrium.

“BC!”

Edwards!

“Marc! How are you?” BC asks, standing up to shake Edwards’s hand as he walks over to their table.

“How are you, BC? They said at your office that you were out sick today.” He looks Fiza up and down and begins to grin.

“I’m feeling a little better. And I have an old friend visiting. She demanded I come out to lunch. Fiza, this is Marc, Marc Edwards. He’s in charge of this place.”

“What, the restaurant? You know this pineapple is...”

“No, Fiza, the Moon. Marc is the governor of Lunar Prime!” BC laughs.

“Oh, fucking ay, I am so fucking embarrassed, I’m sorry, governor. It’s nice, I mean, it’s an honor to meet you,” she says, shaking Edwards’s extended hand in between both of hers.

“It’s an honor to meet you too, Miss Fiza. Any friend of BC’s is a friend of mine.” He eases his hand out of hers.

Edwards catches BC’s eye and winks.

Oh great.

“Well, hey, I can’t stay. I’ll let you two get back to catching up. BC, give me a call when you get a chance, okay? See you guys later!” Edwards turns and walks quickly away.

“He knows you’re getting laid,” Fiza says with a knowing leer.

“What?” BC almost

“He’s happy for you! You can see it in his eyes, he knows.”

“Please. Could you please keep your voice down?”

“What, worried about upholding your image?”

“Never mind. Tell me more about Mars.”

“It sucked. Dirt and sand. That’s fuckin’ Mars. Dirt and fuckin’ sand, red sand, everywhere, always in your hair, in your makeup, in your cra...”

“Hey, we’re in public, huh?”

“You started it! You asked me!”

“Right. Eat your lunch.”

“Make up your mind.”

“Okay. Eat your lunch.”

“Fine,” Fiza huffs.

She digs into the Polynesian delight on her plate and shovels it down in silence. Every so often she looks ups from eating to glare at BC until he looks up, meets her glare, and goes back to eating. She holds her glares for a short time longer, then goes back to eating, too.

“Why were you on Mars?” BC asks when she finishes. Fiza just glares at him. He presses his point. “I find it awful hard to believe you’ve been on Mar...”

“I was hiding. That’s it. Like I told you.”

“Who were you hiding from?”

“It was, I was just, I was hiding, okay? Look, can we drop this?”

“Drop what?” The Reverend Swan has suddenly appeared tableside between BC and Fiza.
Can this get any better?

“Reverend Swan. Hello,” BC says with little enthusiasm.

“Hello, Father Campion. Glad to see you’re feeling better. Who’s your little friend here, Father?”

“This is an old friend of mine, Reverend. She demanded that I come out to lunch even though I told her how sick I am with these headaches I’ve been getting. Anyway. Fiza, meet The Reverend Swan. Reverend Swan, may I introduce you to my old friend, Fiza.”

“Nice to meet you,” Fiza says.

“And you likewise, I’m sure,” says Swan, dismissively.

Fiza and Swan warily size each other up as they extend hands and shake. Swan turns from Fiza to address BC.

“Father, we have to start working on your rites and rituals training! Your lessons await!”

“You mean you came looking for me? I’m eating! I’m ill! I have a visitor! Excuse me!”

“Looks to me like you’re almost done. Anyway, I’ve arranged with the Cardinal to free you up from some of your public relations duties while you work with me. Hmm. I was told you were sick today, but you look fine to me. So guess what? We’ll begin in a half an hour. I’ll expect to see you in my office then. Nice to meet you, Ms. Fiza.”

Swan turns and walks briskly away.

“Looks like you should be hiding, too, maybe, huh?” Fiza says with a little laugh.

“We’ll talk more about your hiding on Mars later,” BC says, “Let’s head back to my rooms for now. You can wait for me there.”

”Wait for you there?! Why? I wanna see this place! I’ll play tourist while you play priest.”

“I thought you were in hiding?”

“Not here! At least, not yet, anyway!” she laughs.

Half an hour later BC sits in front of Reverend Swan as she revs up her lecture.

“...things are looser now, true, and you are in the loosest branch of the NcC, but really, Father, some decorum, please.” She finishes and glares at him from behind her desk.

“What?” BC asks?

“That little number you were brunching with earlier... not exactly discreet, Father Campion.” She actually “tsk, tsks,” at him.

“Now, look here, you’re criticizing my friends, now?”

Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?

“You have an image to uphold, Father, whether you like it or not. And a post coital brunch with some little floozy you’ve just boffed, both of you sitting there all glowing... not the image you should be projecting, if you get my drift.”

I’d like to set you adrift in space right about now...

“Look, Swan, let’s get this straight. I may have to follow along with you on church stuff, but you can keep your opinions of my private life to yourself, okay?” BC says quietly, trying to keep his temper checked.

Swan continues her attack, "I'm supposed to teach you to be a better priest. That's exactly what I'm trying to do. Being a priest means more than saying some words at Sunday Mass. It's a whole lifestyle."

"That's fine, but you weren't assigned by Pope Peter to train me into a new lifestyle. You're here to simply help me brush up on some of the finer points of the rites and rituals, stuff I'm rusty on. That's it. I'll let you do that. But I’m not going to let you judge me!" BC almost shouts.
Damn, don't need to get heated, she has no real power over me...
Got to maintain
control...

Swan tries to assert herself, "What I'm to teach you is for me to decide as your teacher. Our interpretations of my assignment seem to differ. You are..."

"Shut up, Swan." BC says levelly. "Stick to your mass lessons, leave my private life alone, and we'll get along fine. Stick your nose where it doesn't belong and you'll be gone faster than you can say,

'return ticket to Earth, please'."

Swan just stares at him, mouth drawn tightly closed, eyes full of fury.
Is that steam coming out of her ears?

BC stares back at her. She remains silent, so BC says, "You've been brought in to teach me, Reverend Swan, but make no mistake, I outrank you. And although you were brought in at the request of my superiors, if I give the word, those same superiors will send you back where you came from, real fast
.
It's up to you, Swan, really. You can make it easy or hard on both of us. Your choice. What's it gonna be?"

Swan stares at him, considering.

Considering how to dissect me, by the look of it. You know, though, her eyes have quieted
a little. And her face seems a little more relaxed. We'll see...
BC stares back. Their eyes stay locked until Swan breaks the contact and looks down at her desk.

Eyes still lowered, she says, "Very well. Have it your way. But I will teach you how to be a better priest. In my own way. You’re just going to have to deal with that, Father Campion. Shall we begin over?"

BC relaxes. "Fine. Go ahead."

Swan looks up at him, says, "Okay, Father. We'll start by finding out what you do know. Tell me what you know about the Sunday New United Reform Liturgy."

Better.

"Let's see. It's new, united and reformed, and it's said on Sundays, right?"
Attempted humor.

Swan scoffs, "Yeah, right. Here, take this," she says, and hands him a red leather book about an inch thick.

"What's this?" BC asks.

"That," Swan says, the glare back in her eyes, "is the book we use for the New United Reform Sunday Liturgy. It has all the liturgies we use in it, actually. Are you telling me you've never seen this book before?"

"Um, well, not that one, no," BC stammers out.

"I can see we have a lot to work on," Swan says, "if you don't even recognize the book..."

"See, Swan, plenty of work for you to do without your prying into areas you don't belong in. We'll do fine."

Swan ignores the comment. "Turn to page 25," she instructs BC. Three hours later, BC feels like his head is going to explode.

"That's all for today, Father," Swan finally says. "Thanks for your time. We'll see you here at ten tomorrow morning for our next session."

"Right. Tomorrow at Ten. See you then, Reverend Swan," BC says and almost leaps up and runs out of her office.

Too much information!

He rubs his temples as he walks back to his rooms. No headache actually appears. It gives BC

some time to think.

A
lot of what Swan was just hammering into my skull was kinda familiar. A lot of the rites
we read through today are similar to what The Light's people use. Funny, though, Most of the
NcC stuff seems simplified, dumbed down.

'Course, I
don't want Swan to know I know any of it. Keeps her out of my business if she
figures she's got to cover everything.

I kept thinking about Kim's lessons. I liked him as a teacher better than Swan, that's for
sure. Taught me just what I needed to know, not all this extra BS Swan seems to think is
important.

BC opens the door to his rooms to see Fiza sitting inside on the sofa.

"I thought you were going out exploring?" BC asks.

"I did. I thought you might want something to eat. They said you'd be done around now."

"They? Who said that?"

"The Cardinal and his secretary. What?"

"Shit, Fiza, you've got to be more, I don't know, discreet, less in people's faces!"

"Why BC, are you ashamed of me?" Fiza asks playfully, batting her eyelashes. BC looks at her without answering.

Maybe I am. Can't tell her that. Won't go over well.

"No, that's not it. It's just... my position right now is a little dicey. They want me to become a better priest, The Cardinal wants me to study with Swan because he thinks I'm lazy, The Pope figures Swan will help me strengthen my cover, which he thinks is already blown! They're looking to me to be more, I don't know, priestly, I guess. And, unfortunately, you don't quite fit that image." Fiza pouts.