“That’s enough,” Peter cautioned low, the smile betraying inner feelings. “I want you all here tomorrow afternoon. After the mass the next morning, Council will meet in closed session to discuss and debate an extremely sensitive topic. Your presence will be appreciated.”
“But… “ one of them said.
“All I need is a quorum of nine. Any of you having more pressing matters to attend to, matters more important than the requiem of Cardinal Castro and an executive meeting of Council… I’ll understand completely.”
The only sound was the distant hum of the monitors.
“Good.” The Pontiff leaned forward, folded his hands together and rested them on the table. “One more thing before he leaves. I’m appointing Terry Samson to the Cabinet post of Secretary of Finance.”
The thunderstorm of angry voices Samson heard hail into the Council Room could be of no less in intensity, he realized, than when the shit hit the fan at the Tower of Babel.
Chapter Six
Peter silenced the rabble and looked to the new S of F, the highest post after Secretary of State, thus making Terence P. Samson the third ranking member in the entire operation. Born in the U.S.A., schooled in parochial grammar and high schools, undergraduate and graduate degrees from sectarian institutions, widower, Republican, Party functionary and now the very confused new kid on the block.
“Don’t worry about them,” the Pope advised as he motioned to the monitors then the door. “Go back to my office. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He paused. “Welcome to the Cabinet.”
“But Peter, I… “
“To my office.”
Too far, Samson knew. But too late. He should have confessed everything the night before and been done with it. Now the best he could hope was Angelique would keep what she knew to herself. He made his way to the exit, held open by Clarence. “My man,” the doorkeeper said, offering an upturned palm. Samson gave it a slap then left.
So that’s why Mitchell was so pissed off. So that’s why I came home on Thunder Road, he thought as he stepped through the waiting room toward Peter’s inner sanctum, Rosalita oblivious as she pulled file after file out of a large packing crate, then dropped them into another.
He startled as he entered the office. There she was. Gosling, the First Kid Sister. The two had gone out on a few dates years before at Peter’s suggestion but it wasn’t a match made in heaven. The last time he’d seen her was six months earlier, at another wedding mass celebrated by their Cupid, another reception held in the ballroom of Peter’s house, when she’d married a commodities broker. He offered congratulations and best wishes, shook the hand of the groom and even received a kiss from the bride who whispered, “Peter really likes you better than Ken, but I guess… well, thanks a bunch for coming.” It was at that moment Samson realized his loopy fascination with the idea Peter had plans for him, thought more of him than most, turned from fantasy to reality. His instincts were on the right track. Peter really did value him.
Three weeks later, they were off on their honeymoon to Hawaii, Ken mixing a little business with pleasure, Mary Beth postponing her departure a day to wrap up some loose ends at the Knight Foundation. It was a trip she was fortunate to have missed. The flight recorders of the United Boeing 797 indicated engine #2 exploded 80 minutes outside of Honolulu, disabling all of the craft’s systems. And after uncontrollably rolling five times, it plunged into the Pacific, not a crew member nor passenger surviving.
“How have you been?” she asked, walking tentatively toward him, raising her arms and hugging him gently. “Still a tough world, huh?” she added whimsically.
“Yeah,” he replied, returning the embrace. “I guess you know about that sort of thing.” He paused. “I know I haven’t seen you, seen you since…”
“I appreciated the card and flowers. Pete said you were out of town or you would have, have…” her voice trailed off.
“I would have been there.”
“I know.” She paused. “Pete said he was going to toss you a hand grenade this morning,” she said earnestly, greenish-brown eyes twinkling below her reddish-brown hair. “Did it get tossed yet?”
“I think so.”
She took his hands and squeezed them. “Oh, tell me, can you? He wouldn’t but I got the feeling it was pretty good.” She smiled again. “He really thinks the world of you, Terry. I guess he always wanted a little brother but had to settle for me.”
A lump rose in Samson’s throat so instead of speaking, he led her to the couch beneath the Jasper John’s Target.
“Just a new assignment.”
“Please?”
“I don’t…”
The private door opened to the left and Peter walked in with a stack of folders and one of the clunky Dansk BLT coffee mugs he collected. Had over 200 of the 1970s artifacts. Was holding one at the moment he decided to enter the priesthood. Top item on his gift wish list.
“Interrupting something?”
Samson jumped. “No, your Holiness, we were…”
The rest was lost in the laughter of Eagle and Gosling.
“Pete? I know I’m just visiting but do you think I could forgo the estate they put me in over on the lake?” She walked toward him, crossing her arms then sitting on his desk. “Can’t I just stay here? I realize they’re trying to give me the princess treatment but…”
“I thought you’d just like your own space. You always have. I remember that from the time you were three.” He dropped the folders on his desk and took a sip. “Sure. Tell Rosalita.”
She stepped around the desk and put her arms about him. “Thanks, big brother,” Samson thought he heard her say. As she headed for the door, he glanced toward Peter, who nodded.
“You got any plans for this evening, Mary Beth?”
She turned. “Nope. Empty dance card.”
“Want to do something?”
“I’d like that.”
“How about if I call you later and we can go out for one of our famous dinners?”
“I’d like that,” she repeated, then left.
Peter sat down and motioned Samson to join him. The new Secretary of Finance edged to the same chair he’d occupied the previous evening, when he was nothing more than the Finance Director of a political party. Now he was within spitting distance of the top floor of the highest mystic-conceived mountain ever to have existed on the planet.
But why now, Sir? Why the big time?
“Your new position is only temporary, so before you start fancying yourself, which I imagine you already have, just remember that in less than a week it’s back to business as usual. But that’s just between you and me.”
Trepidation replaced by relief. Peter knew him so well.
“Why me?” Samson asked.
“A couple reasons. First of all, there aren’t many people who I can count on the way I do you. I’ve seen you in enough situations to have a pretty good idea about how you’re going to react and handle yourself.” He paused. “Your first take on something might not always be the right one but you eventually come to a workable conclusion.”
“Thanks,” Samson said. I think, he thought.
“You’re welcome. You look a little nervous.”
“I am. Not every day you get to be… do I also get to be an acting Cardinal?”
Peter laughed. “No, but it’s interesting you’d bring that up. I spoke with Keene yesterday afternoon, after I decided I wanted you to take over for Juan until things settle down, and he raised a point similar to that.”
“What?”
“Canon Law on the subject is pretty clear. All of the Secretariats should be filled by Cardinals. He knew of no exceptions so we had to think about how to accomplish what I felt was best for the Church.”
“And?”
“And it came down to three options.”
“Which were?”
“My first was to ordain you, then promote you.”
Samson felt a rush of blood to his face and his ears began
to ring like someone had blasted them with an air horn. It was bad enough Peter had unknowingly chosen an accident waiting to happen to be in the Cabinet, let alone compound the mistake by ordaining him.
“But that was too messy. Then you’re stuck with the vows of celibacy and obedience, the latter of which you could handle but the former of which you come up a little light on.”
“Yes, sir,” Samson meekly replied.
“Of course, by the power invested in me by the Holy Mother Church, I could relieve you of those vows just as easily, but that would trivialize the priesthood, so I guess it was a pretty dumb idea in the first place.” He paused. “Besides, I don’t think you’d look too good in one of those red caps.”
A nervous wheeze eased out of Samson’s mouth, but he said nothing.
“The second option was for me to say the rules just changed and that would have put it all to rest. But that would set a bad precedent, impinging on work we did at Vatican III, and you know how I feel about that.”
“Strict constructionist?”
“Right. So Keene and I decided the easiest thing for me was to indicate you’d only be Acting SF so no one could be heard to complain. Or so I thought.”
“Not too popular with the guys, huh?”
“Or the girls,” Peter chuckled. “I think you made yourself an enemy for life this morning. If something ever happens to me and she gets the Ring, go back to Florida and get yourself the first shuttle off-planet.”
Even though he might be joking, the thought of being on the wrong side of Maria Cardinal Pelosi was enough to give anyone pause. Possibly even Peter himself.
The issue of women entering the priesthood hadn’t been raised at Vatican III because there was already enough on the Mensa. The highly sensitive and emotionally-charged issue was too big to deal with in the context of everything else needing to be addressed. But three years after his election, Nicholas took a two-week break from his regular duties to go on a working vacation at the Hawaiian estate of Archie Knight to literally divine an answer to the troublesome topic. After ten days, he summoned the Council to the retreat and they stayed for seven. Five days later he announced his decision. The priesthood was now open to all those who wished to serve.
Maria Theresa Pelosi had taken every course there was before the announcement was made, having gone undercover for a year of study at a liberal Italian seminary while taking the handful of courses she couldn’t there via correspondence. She probably could have pulled off the ruse through ordination. But instead, she went public with her scam the day before her induction was to take place, arranging for Italian National Television to have a camera crew at her announcement, finishing it by gesturing to her chest and stating: “Because God gave me these, I cannot enter the priesthood. If He wishes to take them back, I would be happy to exchange them for the opportunity to serve Him and His Church.”
She became an international celebrity, a role model for countless other women. Nicholas, not one to pass up a perfect public relations opportunity to continue to bolster the Church that had phoenixed, summoned her the following month to be ordained with a small group of novitiates who had come to the priesthood the old fashioned way.
“She had me poll the group. If it weren’t for Primovich, you’d be over at Party headquarters right now.”
“You’re kidding?” Samson said as he stood and paced. “Eleven to one?”
“Eleven against you,” the Pope agreed, suspicion in his voice.
“Is something else going on?”
“There is something else but I’m not certain what it is. Juan thought so, too. In fact, I think something’s been going on for a long time now.”
“Such as?”
“They don’t like me as much as they used to, those people on the Council,” Peter stated in an almost conspiratorial tone. “None of them except Johnny.”
“Well, I don’t…”
“You don’t think there’s a lot going on behind my back that I don’t know about? You ought to see some of the telephone bills, the satellite use that goes on between some of the other party headquarters and the members of the Council who don’t have anything to say to each other.” He reached for his cup. “Juan was on to something, something going on out there. Something called Silver Piece.”
“Silver what?”
“Silver Piece. As in the 30 Judas received.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not certain. Juan has been, or I should say was looking into for a long time.” He hesitated. “He’s close. I mean, he was getting close before he died.”
“It has to do with the Secretariat of Finance?”
“Partially.”
“Like…”
“For various reasons, I wanted Juan to pin it down before he gave me the whole story. Concerns some things, or might concern some things, he felt it best not to tell me about.”
“So you’d be…”
“Insulated. So I could, in all honesty, say that I knew nothing about it.”
“But why wouldn’t you, of all people, want…”
“Terry,” Peter replied, rubbing his finger back and forth beneath his lower lip. “Just look into it, will you?”
Two quick beeps came from the console. “Yes, Rosalita.”
“The President of the United States is on line three.”
“Ask him to hold for a minute.”
“And they’re assembled in the Cabinet Room.”
“I’ll be there when I can.”
“And Bishop Mitchell said he felt ill and asked if he could be excused from the meeting.”
“Tell him to take the day off.”
“And I found the file, the Japanese people you were looking for.”
“Have someone from Internal come over, pick up the lot except for the star files and ones from Japan, and have them all run through the signature machine.”
“And Angel… Mrs. Caulfield has called a few times and requests an audience with you.”
Samson shivered.
“Tell her to get an appointment.”
“That’s what she wants, Holiness.”
“What else?”
“Nothing that can’t wait, Holiness.”
“Thank you. Anyway,” Peter said, staring at Samson, drawing him closer. “Look into it. But whatever you do, don’t repeat that phrase to anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it, Terry.”
“No one. I promise.”
“You don’t have to spend your entire life on it. I’m going to have some other things for you in a few days. Best thing you can do for me until we get Juan’s funeral out of the way is to just stay out of trouble. Okay?”
“Out of trouble?” Samson asked, the shock in his voice sounding even exaggerated to him.
Peter laughed and in a twinkling returned to his normal self. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just rattled about Juan and… “
“I can imagine. I know… I’ll be going now.”
“Where?”
Samson thought a moment. “To my office?”
“You’ve got a Cabinet meeting to attend.”
“Oh, right. I’ll go to the Cabinet room then.”
“Nah. Stick around. This call might be fun,” Peter replied as he reached to the console. “Good morning, Mr. President.”
“Good morning, your Holiness,” Donovan’s voice replied through the speaker. “How are things at the nerve center of the free world, Ron?”
“Not bad, Holiness. How are things at the nerve center of the Roman Catholic Church?”
“A little sad today.”
“And that’s the main reason I’m calling. I, and of course Darlene, would like to express our deepest sympathy on the death of Cardinal Castro. I know you and Juan were not only close professional colleagues but also close personal friends. The two of you went to seminary together, yes?”
“Yeah. He was a good guy.”
“And certainly an asset to the Church, and in a larger way, an asse
t to the world financial community.”
“Yes. He was.”
“Is there anything I can do for you in this tragic time?”
“Thank you. But no.”
“It occurs to me that sending a representative of the government wouldn’t hurt, would send the right signal to the financial community that the unfortunate passing of Cardinal Castro will not mean that there will be any change in the investment practices of the Church or that any of the markets will be disrupted in any…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t mean to be precipitous, but have you considered or named a successor to the position? It occurs to me that Cardinal Bowden here in our Archdiocese would be an excellent choice, with his background and all.”
“I already appointed a temp, but I will give some thought to Cardinal Bowden.” Rolled his eyes. “Some serious thought.”
The conversation seemed to drop into a rehearsed silence. Peter pointed to the phone and mouthed, “Here it comes.”
“That reminds me, Holiness,” Donovan finally said. “Do you have another minute?”
“Sure,” the Pope replied, standing and stretching.
“It’s about my daughter’s wedding.”
“Yes. Peyton. Coming up soon, eh?”
“Very soon. Three weeks from this coming Saturday.”
“Should be the social event of the season,” he replied as he sorted the files on the desk.
“Will you reconsider?”
“No.”
“Please, Holiness.”
“I’m sorry, Ron. My officiating wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“But…”
“If you were… if she were anyone other than the daughter of the President of the United States, it might be a different story. But as things are configured, I really can’t see my way to perform it. I’m certain Cardinal Bowden will do a fine ceremony.”
“So do I. But Peyton and John would be so thrilled…”
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