by Mike Luoma
"Okay, all right," BC finally breaks the silence, "Where should I meet you?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll send someone with you. He'll bring you to the ship when the time comes."
"I bet he will. That is just so entirely helpful of you,” BC says with sarcasm. “Thank you so much," BC
lays it on thick.
Yes, I just bet he’ll bring me to you when you want me. I have no doubt of that. He'll be making sure of a lot of things, I betcha.
"Bruno!" Wentworth yells. One of the goons who had melted into the woodwork steps out next to Wentworth and BC. "Go with Campion here. He's going to pack for our voyage. Bring him to us at the ship in time for our departure in exactly three hours and forty-five minutes."
"Yeah, boss. I'm on it." Bruno grunts.
"Bruno, you gonna shake my dick for me after I pee?" BC prods. Bruno's brow furrows.
“You don’t sound like no priest I ever heard of,” Bruno says. He looks at BC with death in his eyes, but then he looks over at Wentworth. Wentworth motions him to calm down.
"Bruno will wait outside your residence as you get ready for our trip," he explains to BC. "He will not be intrusive. Isn't that right, Bruno?"
Bruno grunts what might be a "Yes."
"Good enough, then,” Wentworth says. “See you in four, Campion," Wentworth tells him. He crosses the room and sits back down at the desk. BC looks at Wentworth, then Bruno, then shrugs, and heads out the door of the hotel room. He doesn't bother to look back to see if Bruno is following. That is Bruno's problem. Well, isn't this fun? Swimming with the sharks…
BC, with Bruno in tow behind him, heads back to the Vatican Mission and his quarters. Bruno, good to Wentworth's word, does as instructed and stands outside BC’s quarters as BC goes in and gets ready for the trip.
"Don't get lost out here, Bruno," BC says as he heads into his rooms. Bruno grunts. "Gotcha," BC
answers.
Once inside, BC secures his rooms.
Must have done something right if the security measures attracted the notice of Wentworth and his bunch. Wonder if he's got any back doors to my system. He sounded... I don't know, maybe he's just playing me. Guys like him want you to think they know more than they really do. Best be careful, he may have a way in, at least into my info flow on some level... jeesh, am I too paranoid... Or do I have to be with these guys?
After all, what kind of a way is that to call a meeting? Club the Ambassador? I don't know, anymore. Goddamn it, everything's going to hell...
I don't have much choice but to go with Wentworth and his goons. Might as well find out what he's pushing. The Pope doesn't seem to be anyone's ally right now. Maybe I can see Fiza, make sure she's still in one piece... who knows?
BC takes out the CCU with the crystal from this morning still sitting in it. All right, M'Bekke, let's see if it's really you...
He runs one of the diagnostic programs built into the CCU. The crystal comes up clean. Authentic. Yeah... But... That analysis is based on the old protocols. Gotta do a more intensive examination. Good start, though, good start. Let's see if there are any DNA traces. That would make it nice and easy... Bingo.
BC uses the unit's analytical programs to isolate two distinct DNA patterns. Both test as true, not constructs. No false patterns to fool with.
Two sets. Once should be the courier, the other, if this is real, M'Bekke's. Let's see... this one's unknown. Could be the courier. No worries yet. Let's look at this and... Yup! M'Bekke! Good to see you, even a microscopic mote of you. So it's real. M'Bekke's still out there, somewhere. Presumably not at the Vatican, not if this is true.
BC reads the words of the message in the upper part of the CCU's screen:
"Pope Peter killed by faction who installed Linus. Not killed in UIN attack. M'Bekke." Doesn't sound like we've got a friend in the new pontiff. Better go with Wentworth and explore my options. Better pack wisely! Let's see...
Three and a half hours later, Bruno rings the bell to the Vatican Ambassador's quarters.
"Yes?" BC says on the intercom.
"We gotta go soon," Bruno grunts.
"Gotcha, big guy. I'll be right there."
BC has been packed for an hour. But for the next twenty minutes he continues his meditation. Maybe if I meditate I can avoid the headaches. Bruno can wait. I'm sure he'll ring again when we really need to go.
One minute later, Bruno rings again.
"Yes?" BC inquires pleasantly.
"Let's go! Now!" Bruno barks back.
"Coming," BC continues pleasantly.
BC is packed for a priest's travel needs, not an assassin's. No weapons. No ‘subterfuge’. I'm sure Wentworth has many levels of security. And when all else fails, big guys with clubs. Primitive, yet effective. I'll be the holy diplomat this trip. Play the role, right?
"Hello Bruno!" BC greets the goon outside as he leaves his quarters. Bruno grunts and turns to lead BC
to Wentworth's ship. BC presses his hand against the security panel to seal up his rooms. For what it's worth...
"Hey!" Bruno calls back. "Let's go! You're already late!" BC walks up to Bruno without saying a word.
"Here," Bruno says, "You go ahead. I wantcha where I can seeya."
"Which way am I going?" BC asks him.
"Left," Bruno barks, "here. Down to the private bays." BC follows his directions, walking just ahead of the goon as they head to the ship.
After several other barks and turns, they end up in a little used section of the Lunar Prime Spaceport. Little used, but amazingly intact. They rebuilt these private bays with private funds. Built them back up pretty fast, too.
BC laughs to himself.
Betcha Wentworth's bay is at least as secure as the Vatican mission!
"Here!" Bruno says, indicating a secure airlock door. Bruno presses his hand against the door's panel and it slides open. "Go ahead," he tells BC.
BC steps through the airlock door into the airlock. Bruno follows, closing the outer door behind him. He steps past BC to put his palm against the inner door ahead of them and it slides open, revealing a luxurious reception area. Wentworth's Station colors, gold, red and black, are duplicated here: plush red and gold walls, black marble floors, and a clear glass ceiling open to the stars obscured by just a hint of blue haze, letting BC and others know a security shield is in place.
Three other "Bruno's" are standing against the wall opposite the airlock BC walked in through. Another airlock door stands open between two of the thugs, apparently the airlock to Wentworth's waiting ship, docked outside. They move aside when BC and Bruno approach. Bruno grunts and points to tell BC to go ahead of him once again, into this second airlock.
BC has a sudden panic attack.
What if they're just going to space me, right here and now? No, why would they get so elaborate?
So it'll look like an accident? Shit!
BC calms when Bruno steps into the airlock as before, pushing past to palm the panel in the door ahead of them as the outer door closes behind. A quick hiss and the door opens.
"Go!" Bruno says, and BC goes. He steps onto the ship. BC looks up and down the ship's empty corridor.
Hmm, black red and gold, how original... well, at least he's consistent.
"Go ahead, up and to the right," Bruno directs BC in his grunt-speak. BC heads down the corridor. Bruno shows him to a stateroom door.
"Press here," he says, indicating the door panel. BC feels a brief tingle as the door recognition systems id's his palm. The door slides open on a relatively posh stateroom with a king size bed.
"This is your room for the trip. Settle in for takeoff. Mr. Wentworth will be calling you after that."
"You make a great stewardess, Bruno," BC chides him. Bruno ignores him, turns and walks away down the corridor. BC walks in and surveys his stateroom.
Nice. A whole lot nicer than I'm used to. Being a simple priest and all. The stateroom door slides shut behind him. BC turns and puts his palm against the door panel,
but nothing happens.
Locked. Figures. Well, nothing to do now but enjoy the ride.
BC settles in for takeoff, which is relatively smooth.
I suppose he can afford the best pilots, right?
He lies on the bed as they make their way.
It took Fiza and me two days to get to Wentworth Station on a commercial ship. I wonder how fast Wentworth makes the trip?
The bed is comfortable, and BC actually falls asleep soon after they leave the moon's surface. Wentworth's voice over an intercom wakes him up.
"Campion! We're almost at my station. Prepare to disembark." Rude awakening! Huh, looking at the clock, it’s been about eight hours. Must be Monday morning by now…
Damn... a headache? Aw, no, not now...
BC massages his temples, rubs his forehead, and presses his fingers against his eyes, trying anything to stop the headache from intensifying. Wentworth's voice booms out again.
"Campion!"
That's not helping...
"Bruno will meet you outside your stateroom in twenty minutes. Be ready!" This sucks...
“Gotcha. I’ll be there,” BC says into the com.
BC tries to freshen up. The stateroom facilities are top notch, with a sink and bath with running water. BC tries to hold back his headache as he gets ready.
It's probably costing him a fortune for me to wash my face right now. Maybe I'll just let the water run, let the reclamation system crank for a while. Ouch, damn this thing!
BC scrunches his eyes closed as he presses the balls of his fists against the sides of his forehead. The headache backs off a bit, and he sighs in relief.
The headache manages to remain at bay as BC is lead by Bruno off the ship and into Wentworth Station. The surroundings are familiar, as Bruno leads him back up to the dining room he and Fiza had found themselves in almost six months earlier, the dining room with the large C-shaped semi circular table. Although BC can't help but feel a small sense of deja vu as he's lead into the dining room, this time the crowd is very different. No banquet this time, and sterner faces have replaced sycophants. Some of those faces are familiar to BC from his first visit. But most of the faces of those seated at the table this time are familiar to BC from the news. These are most of the CEO's that make up the UTZ Council! BC
is surprised.
All the CEOs are here!
Wentworth speaks. "Father Campion, welcome. I trust you now understand why we've been so secretive and secure." He gestures to those gathered around him at the table, "We are each targets in our own right. Collectively, we make an incredibly attractive target. That is why no one knows of our meetings until after they've occurred. We gather together in person like this only seldom, and only in time of great crisis and need. This is such a time. Please, sit," Wentworth says, and BC sees that a chair to the right has been saved for him.
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 doub
le 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.
