“If you search for key words such as kill, murder, stab, shoot, hang? Probably close to half a million,” said Agent Stark.
Half a million. Flic sat before her knees buckled beneath her.
“The word rape on its own racks up a good few thousand,” added Agent Stark.
“Christ, thousands of people would like to see me raped. What the fuck sick world do we live in?”
“Very few of them would see their comments come to fruition. Many of these people are just letting off steam.”
“Right, well, next time your mother pulls in front of me at an intersection, don’t mind me when I yell to her that she’s a shit driver and she deserves nothing but a good raping!” Flic lost control.
Anna was by her side, her arm around her waist. “Hey. It’s okay. We’re all frightened and angry that this has happened.” Her hand slid under Flic’s jumper, her touch providing enough distraction to calm Flic down.
Agent Stark pushed her hands deep in her pockets. “That’s not possible anyway.” She eyed Flic squarely. “My mother is dead.”
“That’s enough, ladies.” Dee’s timing was a little late, but it was a welcomed intervention. “We’re all a bit stressed. Anna, why don’t you take Flic to the kitchen for some breakfast? She needs to eat and so do you for that matter.”
Flic stormed from the room and down the hall.
“Um, the kitchen is this way.” Anna cocked her head in the opposite direction.
Flic’s storming turned to trudging. “I was out of line. I need to apologize to her.”
“Later, yeah? She knows you’re under pressure.”
“Her mother’s dead.”
“And you can’t change that. See her after breakfast.”
“I’m really not hungry. I feel empty, like hollow if you know what I mean.”
“You need to eat.”
Footsteps approached behind them. “You need to eat, Felicity. You faint if you don’t eat, remember?” After entering the kitchen, Dee emptied the contents of the fridge onto the table. It would hardly provide a gourmet spread, but it would do. “We have work to discuss.”
Flic picked at a thick slice of baguette. Her spirits lifted marginally when she spotted some orange juice.
“The dates for the US are being finalized as we speak, but as of yesterday, they need revising with security in mind. You’re now a high risk, and the cost of protecting you has more than quadrupled.”
“No Christmas bonus for me then?”
“Sweetheart, you’ve earned enough bonuses to last you a lifetime. You’ve written a book that will sell over one million copies in hardcover alone. You’re just a pain in the ass to protect now.” She patted Flic’s shoulder and winked. “It’s okay. I promise we’ll work this all out.”
Anna pushed her hands through her hair. “There are strong indications the Vatican will be making an announcement soon. So we need to get back on top of our game.”
Flic struggled to concentrate, but it was no use. “My brain is all mush. Is that good or bad for us at this stage?”
Dee looked to Anna for the answer. “It’s inevitable. Don’t worry. I figured that by this stage you might be finding it all a little overwhelming. I believe an announcement on the pope and his sexuality will be any day now. It’s simply a matter of time. Our strategy understandably takes into account both a denial and admission by the Vatican, but an admission is almost assured. What happened yesterday, however, was not in our strategy.”
Flic was no defeatist. “So, the show must go on?”
Dee smothered butter on a croissant and filled it with ham and cheese and handed it to Flic. “Eat.”
“You do know croissants are made with a ton of butter, right?”
“Yes. I do know that. Now eat. And yes, the show will go on as soon as we arrange for additional people to keep you safe.”
“Is that where Max is?”
“Yes, he’s liaising with experts to have your personal security sorted ASAP.”
“Not just mine.” A flashback of Max and Anna frantic in the car yesterday filled her head. “Everyone’s life was in danger.”
Dee touched her shoulder. “And everyone will be protected, I promise.”
Flic couldn’t believe that it had come to this.
*
The day passed with little input required from Flic. Anna checked on her and looked at the stitches in her head late in the afternoon, but besides that, she was left to her own devices and spent most of her time wandering in and out of what she called the “control” room. The gist of the conversation rarely changed—security.
Max and Dee finally sat her down to discuss their completed plan. She struggled to concentrate on the details, but the upshot of it all was that a Scottish firm, mostly staffed with specialist ex-servicemen, would supply a team to coordinate her security. Max would liaise with her and then the team. She would have to get used to a personal bodyguard and limited social engagements for the foreseeable future. On any other day, such a suggestion would have seemed downright ridiculous, but today she shrugged. Her world was changing, and considering she was lucky to be alive, it could only be for the better.
The tour was scaled up and down simultaneously. Up because the venues changed from bookstores to actual auditoriums or conference centers, and down because all smaller localities were canceled completely. She had hoped they would cancel Italy altogether, but so far no one had mentioned it. In her mind, touring the pope’s homeland with a controversial book was, at the very least, unpredictable. But then, that’s what she had a team of security specialists for, apparently.
If the moment she realized someone had made a calculated attempt to end her life was frightening enough, every second she spent reliving the nightmare was torturous. Flic was feeling tormented so she called Max and Anna to her room.
“I know I should probably speak to you about this separately, but I’m not sure I have it in me to do this twice.” Her emotions ran high. She silently cursed her weakness. “Yesterday, two things happened that I would very much like to avoid happening again.” Oxygen seemed sparse in the spacious room and she breathed deeply.
“Are you okay?” Anna moved toward her, but Flic waved her back.
“I’m fine, honestly. Just bear with me while I get this out.” Her weak smile did little to reassure her audience. “What you did for me yesterday, please don’t do again.”
“Flic, what exactly are you talking about?” Anna shrugged, clueless, but Max nodded knowingly.
“I don’t want either of you putting yourself between me and a bullet ever again; do you understand me?”
“I was wearing a vest, love. It was a calculated risk on my behalf,” said Max.
“And I just reacted on instinct. Ducking for cover was a natural move, shielding you was easy when you were on my lap.” Anna took her hands. “Please don’t make this bigger than it is. I know you’re wondering how you would be coping if one of us had been injured or worse, but we’re all fine, all here in one piece, and all grateful no one was hurt.”
The guilt Flic had been experiencing had weighed heavily upon her. She felt better for having had the discussion. “Just mind yourselves in the future. Promise me that?”
Max draped a bulky arm around her shoulders. “How about we mind each other? Deal?”
All three nodded.
There was a purposeful knock on the door, and Agent Stark poked her head in. “Thought you might like to know they have the suspect in custody.”
Max pumped the air with his fist.
“So soon? Are you serious?” It all seemed so fast. Flic wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry.
“Any preliminary reports?” Max was all business.
Stark leaned against the doorframe “Claims he was working alone.” She shook her head. “But it’s not adding up.”
“And what was his motive?” Flic asked. “I mean which cause is he fighting exactly?”
“He reckons he fancied a bit of notoriety
, hates gays, and hates books apparently, too.”
“And based on that he thought he’d just kill me?” Flic wasn’t buying it either.
Max shook his head. “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, chances are it’s a duck, but this sounds too good to be true.”
Stark nodded. “We’ve found evidence that he’s a member of a breakaway Opus Dei group.”
“Isn’t Opus Dei already a breakaway group?” Flic was beginning to wonder if Dan Brown was lurking in the shadows, poised to write a best seller based on her life. “This isn’t The Da Vinci Code. It all sounds so ridiculously clichéd.”
“Cliché or not,” said Stark, “we know he’s part of an extreme Catholic sect, but he’s not saying a damn word.”
“I suppose he’s an albino wearing a hessian sack and all?”
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a sack in the movie,” said Max.
“Whatever! This is getting beyond a joke.”
Anna had remained silent until now. “He tried to kill you, Flic. That’s hardly a joke.”
“So he’s lying about his involvement in Opus Dei—”
“No. He’s admitting to limited involvement in Opus Dei, but beyond that, he’s not saying a word.”
“And what is this breakaway group calling themselves?”
“Ordinem Castitate,” said Stark.
“The Order of Purity.” Flic had picked up enough Latin during her research on the Catholic faith to know the translation. “Give me strength.”
“Quit making a joke of this,” said Anna. “Regardless of how bizarre this seems, they were pretty darn serious when they shot at you yesterday, so I don’t care what they call themselves, I just want to know that you’re safe. That we’re all safe.”
Flic studied Anna. She was frightened. They were all scared in one way or another, but Anna amazed her. She was the glue holding them all together. Flic felt selfish—no more jokes. It touched her to know Anna cared enough not to find any of it amusing. Flic squeezed Anna’s hand. “Has he been charged?” she asked.
“No. Not yet. He’s not saying a lot. But don’t worry. If he’s so much as scratched his ass the wrong way lately, we’ll find out. We’ll keep digging into this Order of Purity. Something will turn up.” She shrugged. “Or we’ll waterboard him and he’ll tell us everything we need to know.”
MI5 were beginning to scare Flic almost more than the crazies of the world. “You’ll really waterboard him?”
“You want to find out why he did this, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but isn’t that illegal?”
Stark gently tapped Flic’s shoulder in a playful fashion. “I’m kidding. He’ll be questioned with all the courtesy in the world.” She grinned and left.
Flic wasn’t so sure about that. She turned to see Anna staring at her.
Anna coughed, her focus obviously directed back to the issue at hand. “Um, call me daft, but what’s waterboarding?”
“Come on,” said Flic. “Let’s discuss torture techniques over dinner.”
*
They sat silently opposite each other at the table. It was an easy silence. Anna was lost in her own thoughts and she imagined Flic was, too. There was much to consider. Anna liked neat and resolved loose ends, but finding out about this Order of Purity only served to generate more questions, not answers. She had thought that by catching the person who tried to murder Flic, it would all be behind them, except the opposite was true. Nothing felt resolved, and she wasn’t convinced the threat against Flic had abated at all.
“What have I done, Anna?” asked Flic. “I look at you and see how this is hurting you, and if I multiply that hurt by the billions of Catholic believers all over the world, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s all gone too far. If I’ve gone too far.”
“None of this is your fault,” said Anna. The words were out before she deeply contemplated her response.
Flic laughed. “You can’t possibly believe that. You tried to tell me what the implications of this book might be and I ignored you. I think I’ve underestimated the power of faith. People are willing to kill for this. Kill me. You of all people must surely think that this is all my fault.”
Anna didn’t. The extremist group branching out beyond Opus Dei hadn’t formed as a result of Flic’s book or her actions or the Love is Love campaign. “It’s not lip service. You haven’t encouraged or facilitated a group of people loosely operating under the Catholic umbrella to kill for their cause. These people aren’t true Catholics. Just because they purport to take their faith to an extreme level, doesn’t make them true believers, it makes them a bunch of self-serving idealistic twats.”
“Wow, Anna, you should say what you really mean.”
Anna smiled and reached for Flic’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault.”
“Well, that’s another issue altogether.” Anna withdrew and sat back. “What I assumed your agenda was, and what your agenda has turned out to be, are two different things. I was wrong about you, and as much as I don’t want the pope to be gay and as much as I can’t stand what is happening to my church, I do understand that you honestly believe his sexuality is neither here nor there in relation to his ability to perform his job.” Her words flowed and they were heartfelt. It was the first time she’d experienced any clarity in her feelings and opinion toward Flic. “Nobody deserves to be hunted and murdered for that.”
Flic looked taken aback, and Anna felt heat rise up her neck. Had she said too much?
“Thank you for clearing that up,” said Flic. “It means a lot that you would think that, let alone say it. I know that must have been difficult.”
Anna laughed. “No, not really.” Flic’s eyes widened. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s as much of a shock to me as I’m sure it is to you, but it wasn’t difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want the pope to be gay. I don’t want the pope to be in love or be in a relationship—unless it’s with God—and I certainly don’t want him to fail billions of people, but I do at least now understand how you see this. How others might see this.”
“But you don’t agree?”
“Give me a break here, one step at a time. I’m only just accepting that there’s people on earth who aren’t troubled by a gay pope.”
“And you’re friends with one of those people and all,” said Flic.
Yes. Anna was Flic’s friend, and it was a good feeling, a comforting feeling. But there was something else playing on her mind, something more immediate, and it concerned the sleeping arrangements for that evening. She’d left her belongings in Flic’s room, but she wasn’t sure if she was needed again. “Has my friend thought about where she’d like me to sleep tonight?”
Flic’s eye twinkled and she appeared to do her best to hide her cheeky grin, but she failed miserably. “Same place as last night, but ideally you should lose the pajamas this time.”
“You’re not amusing, you know. You need to get that filter looked at. You might offend someone one of these days.”
“Have I offended you?”
“No. But I know you’re joking. And you have an appalling sense of humor.”
Flic’s eyes became watery.
Anna cut the attitude. “You’re making jokes because you’re frightened, and when you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. Am I right?”
Flic eyed her in surprise.
“Don’t worry. It’s happening to me, too.” Anna had never had anything quite as traumatic as witnessing an assassination attempt on her friend, but her ability to pray and center herself in the arms of God had, until now, served her well. Now, she found the antidote to her anxiety sitting opposite her. Talking to God calmed her sufficiently, but watching Flic soldier on through the crisis settled her nerves almost completely. For the first time ever, Anna found strength in another human being. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll ask Max to drag another mattress into your room?”
“I was only joking about th
e pajama thing.” Flic looked sad.
“I know, and honestly, I wasn’t offended.” She smiled in reassurance. “I just think it’s better this way.”
“No blurred lines.”
“No blurred lines.”
Chapter Seventeen
The world of fashion had reached Kevlar bulletproof vests, unbeknownst to Flic who imagined they would all be like the bulky ones the police sometimes wore. Her jacket of choice was the lightweight concealable vest in white, manufactured right there in Berlin where they were preparing for their first public appearance since the shooting. It did nothing for her figure.
“What little boobs I have are gone.” She examined herself in the mirror. Anna rolled her eyes.
“You look fine.”
“What about my head?”
“Well, there’s little we can do about your ugly mug,” said Anna.
Tobias, their friendly bulletproof jacket expert, laughed as he produced a bulletproof helmet with a face shield. “Would madam like it in black or, let me see, ah yes, black?”
“Okay, point taken, but what if the next nutter is a better shot than the last?”
Not surprisingly, Max found it difficult to suppress his smile. “There won’t be another one. The vest is just precautionary.”
“It seems too thin. Can it really stop a bullet?” Flic wasn’t convinced.
“It’s stab proof, too.” Tobias knew his stuff. “It is a perfect fit.” He jiggled and jostled the vest about. “And you’ll be able to wear normal clothes over it. Maybe your fans will just think you’ve had too many bratwurst sausages.”
Flic punched his muscular arm. “You’re not helping.”
Tobias smiled. “I’m a good cook. Want me to help by cooking you dinner later on?”
Without skipping a beat, Anna stepped forward. “I don’t know if you know, but Felicity is a lesbian author who’s written a book about a gay pope.”
“Whoa, steady on,” Flic said with a grin. “It’s just dinner.”
Anna took her aside. “He’s flirting with you.”
The Fifth Gospel Page 14
