by Robert Wilde
“Why is that a secret?”
“He buys a lot from us. Don’t want to harm a client.”
“Okay, who’s the client?”
“John Paul.”
“The dead pope?” Joe said, and Dee shook her head.
“No, he took the name as a tribute to the Pope when he returned to Italy to inherit from his father. He’d been in the USA to that point making movies no one watched.”
“Wealthy then?” Dee continued.
“Yes. He has a large property, filled with… history. And he buys relics, and we’re going to sell him the reliquary of the Pope.”
“Were…” Nazir corrected.
“So how do you fit into this? You’re the monkey, he’s the organ grinder…”
“I don’t understand? Monkeys?”
“Why do you travel so much?”
“To find relics.”
“Ah, Thieves Without Borders.”
“He’ll pay a lot, we could split the money?” The thief looked desperately at them.
“There’s no good looking at the men you sexist fuck, I make the decisions round here.” Dee felt certain she did.
“Do you have a computer?” Nazir asked.
“Yes, bedroom,” and Nazir reappeared with it a moment later.
“Won’t it be in Italian?” Pohl asked.
“I can change the language settings. Right, let me google, John Paul you say?”
“What’s he doing?” the thief asked.
“All part of the process,” Pohl said of her own volition, covering up the fact she had no idea what Nazir was doing.
“Right, I have found the address of a Mr. John Paul, and his house, and a map, but there’s nothing on the web about a large collection of anything.”
“It’s a secret,” the thief said, as if that was fucking obvious.
“Nazir, you have the look of a man with a plan.”
“Yes. This laptop tells me two things. We have a mysterious collector expecting someone to sell him a stolen relic, to add to his other stolen relics, and I think we should go and scope him out. Take the one we’ve got, offer to sell, see what’s going on.”
“You didn’t get that from the laptop.”
“No, the first thing the laptop tells me is that this man if gay, look at all the homo porn.”
“How is that helpful?”
“Ask him where the Swiss Guards drink after work.”
“Oh Jesus, you’re like a dog after a bone.”
“He says the Medina Plaza.”
“I really don’t want to ask, but what’s the second thing you found?”
“They’re expected tomorrow morning. We have time for a snooze and then we can go selling.”
“We’ll need to prepare for this, talk a few things through.”
“But can we leave this man tied up all night?” Pohl said. The thief was following, but the speaking, but not understanding.
“Tell him we’re taking the relic back to the Vatican, and if he tries this again we’ll send a demon after his ass.”
After being told his eyes widened. “You can do that?” he stammered out.
“Oh yes,” Dee grinned.
“Then I stop, we stop.”
“Good. Now, do you have any good snacks in that jumble of a kitchen?”
The plan was relatively simple: Pohl and Joe would go in, present themselves as salespeople, and use their talking skills to discover why this man was collecting relics. They’d also be hoping to collect some evidence, because telling the Italian police all about this seemed the inevitable endgame. Joe and Pohl had dressed appropriately: smartly, like two people in a working environment not two tourists on a summer holiday, and while Pohl normally looked like this Joe had to buy some clothes as he’d come dressed down.
They were to gather in Dee’s room before they left.
“Are you ready?” the host asked.
“What did that maid mean as she walked past?” Joe asked, curious about the look he’d just got.
“Oh,” and Pohl explained “she thought we were swingers given how often we’re all in here together.”
“Seeing new places, meeting new people, being thought of as a slut, wonderful.” And Dee got back to the point. “So this kit is working?”
“Yes,” Nazir said, “I’ve wired both Pohl and Joe up and we’ll be able to hear everything that’s said. And tape it. And if we have to rush in guns blazing we can.”
“Except we don’t have any guns.”
“True Joe, but our very presence will deter bullets.”
“And why exactly do you have the machine?” Dee asked.
“So we can speak to anyone in his relics.”
“He’s not going to let you wander around his house alone.”
“Ah, I am trialling some new kit.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve cannibalised a Bluetooth headset, and I can turn the speaker off and just get it to this ear piece,” and a grey piece of plastic was clipped over his ear.
“You look like a nerd,” Dee commented.
“You’ll never get any vadge with that,” Nazir added.
“Where we’re going all the vadge is dead.”
“Maybe you have hidden psychic powers.”
“Right, don’t start on Keyes again, let’s get going.”
Soon a car was parked, with two people staying behind and two venturing inside. Well, up to the door, where they knocked at the time the thieves were supposed to visit, and found a butler stood there, as if he’d just stepped out of an Edwardian drama.
“Yes?”
“We’re here to sell some items of interest,” Pohl explained.
The butler was clearly pondering how much to admit. “My master is expecting someone.”
“Yes, us. The others aren’t coming. There’s been developments.”
This was also pondered, and he finally said “come in, I shall escort you to a waiting room.”
Pohl quite forgot what was happening as she was led through a wide corridor filled with art and history, from paintings to sculptures to a few weapons, and they were soon left in a room equally adorned.
“Must have cost a fortune,” Joe exclaimed, not daring to touch anything.
“I could spend a week just in this building,” Pohl dreamed.
A deep voice said hello in Italian from across the room, and the newcomers turned to find a five foot tall man with a barrel chest and huge arms. He looked like an extremely wealthy gorilla, and he came over and shook Joe’s hand before kissing Pohl’s.
He said a few more words in Italian, laughed from his belly and changed language. “I heard you speak English,” he said, “so let us speak English.”
“Very kind,” Joe thanked him.
“I believe you have something to sell me?”
“Yes.”
“And such an interesting time, as two men were due to come and sell me something. Am I to assume they will not be arriving?”
“Correct.”
“But their piece has arrived nonetheless?”
“Also correct.”
“Very interesting. I am a curious man by nature, but am I to assume you’re keeping this change in business close to your chests?”
“Again, correct.”
John Paul smiled at Pohl. “I can respect that. But why don’t we begin by seeing the merchandise?”
Joe nodded, and withdrew the box from his rucksack, where it was packed above the machine, from which he was getting a background hum of voices. Then Joe carefully opened the box and displayed it.
“Marvellous, marvellous, the blood of a very fine Pope.”
“He hardly lived long enough to be fine,” Pohl said, determined they look forceful.
“Ah, you know your history, so you are interested in relics?”
“Yes.”
“Will you want the usual price?”
“Actually, we’d like to see your collection.” Pohl realised she’d let herself be led into saying that. Sh
e also saw from John Paul’s smile he was happy to show them.
“There is something about you, it makes me believe you appreciate history. Your colleague less so, but you… why don’t we take a look.”
Pohl smiled, Joe shrugged, and they were led through the house until they reached a first floor room with a ferocious lock. Once this was opened with two keys they were led inside, and Pohl gasped pleasingly. Every wall was shelved, and most had relics, from elaborate gold boxes in the form of skulls with a bone fragment inside, to small glass vials.
“This is my collection!” he proudly declared.
Pohl looked at Joe, who nodded. He was hearing a babble of voices all talking with each other. “Lots of Popes,” Joe said, but John Paul misinterpreted.
“Yes, I have the relics of many Popes here. In fact I collect Popes, but there is room for others.”
“Why?” asked Pohl.
“Do you need to ask?” he said, gesturing at all the history around him, and he had a point. Why else but this collection, the weight of the past and the closeness of religious power. But Pohl sensed something else.
“Yes. Why.”
“If I tell you, maybe you will think I’m insane.”
“We’re hardly going to tell anyone.”
“True, true. So I will tell you. My father started this collection, I only inherited and continued his work. And he started it because he could hear the spirits.” If John Paul was expecting Joe or Pohl to look shocked he was disappointed. They seemed to accept the fact easily.
“He collected great people to converse with?”
“Yes.”
“Can you hear?”
“No,” he said looking as sad as a child that’s lost a mother.
“Sell me, I want to stay here.”
Joe heard the voice in his ear, crisp and clear, as if a ghost had fought its way to the front and was talking straight to him. Which it was, in accented English.
“Hmm,” said Joe.
“Yes?” John Paul picked it up.
“The relic, he wants himself sold to you.”
“He does?” Pohl asked.
“Yes. He wants to stay here.”
“Of course he does,” John Paul confirmed, “they all want to stay here. In death most allow themselves to be moved over the world, for many reasons, but over time they crave the company of the few people who understand their position. And I gather them and they enjoy it here.”
“So your father said.”
“Yes,” he confirmed to Pohl.
“Why not the Vatican?” she asked.
“Tourists.”
“Wait. How did you hear? Can you hear the spirits?”
“Sort of,” Joe said, and he unveiled the box.
After a short explanation, and a longer pause, John Paul said “I’ll give you ten million Euros for the box.”
“It’s not for sale,” Joe said with enough firmness to put negotiations to bed.
“I understand. I don’t like it but I understand.” He looked so jealous he might have them all executed. “You will at least sell me the relic?”
“In this case, yes.”
“Excellent. I pay a hundred thousand Euros for a Pope. I will pay that to you.”
Joe’s jaw fell, and Pohl said calmly “that is sufficient.”
“And there’s more if you find more.”
“We’ll bear that in mind.”
“Will you at least put the machine on loudspeaker for a few minutes?”
They stayed another hour, before John Paul finally leant back into a seat. “I’ll pay you double for this evening,” and he didn’t say it as an offer, “but I beg of you, let me keep you on retainer so you can come back every so often and we can do this again.”
“Will you fly us out?” Joe asked.
“You live in England?”
“Yes.”
“Then of course.”
“And there’s really four of us.”
“Four?”
“Two are in a car outside as backup.”
“They must be bored.”
“Luckily this radio only works one way, they can hear us, we didn’t build a way for them to moan back.”
Joe couldn’t hear, in a car outside, Nazir going ‘Hey!”
“But will you accept my offer?”
Joe looked at Pohl, who nodded. “On behalf of all four of us, we accept. Just once every six months and special occasions, okay?”
“Yes, yes, it’s been truly an honour to have met you.”
Joe and Pohl were now shown out by a Butler who’d mellowed considerably, and soon at the car.
“You sold him the relic…” Nazir said, letting the issue hang.
“Yes,” and Joe launched into an explanation, “the man wanted to stay, so why not let him stay?”
“I happen to agree with him,” Pohl said as backup.
“I don’t disagree,” Nazir said, looking confused at himself, “I just feel… kind of dirty. Kind of like we helped something bad happen.”
“I understand,” and Pohl put a hand on his arm, “but these ghosts are real people, who obviously think and feel. They have wishes, and they come before a church building. If you could affect where you were after death, wouldn’t you want the living to accept your wishes?”
“I understand,” Nazir said, patting the hand.
Dee continued the thread. “I feel like I’ve just put my mother in a home for the bewildered.”
“But a home your mother wanted to stay in. With people who understand her experiences.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“And people can hear.” Everyone looked at Joe and his unbridled excitement, so he explained, “John Paul’s father could hear without the aid of a machine. He could do it. We need to look into this, we need to discover how. There’s a whole world of, maybe psychic, experience out there I’ve been dismissing and some of it, a fraction of it, might be true. We have to look.”
“If only you knew an expert in the paranormal,” Nazir said elbowing Dee.
“We’ll look into it Joe, don’t worry,” Dee said. “But first let’s go back to the hotel and celebrate a case solved and a shitload of money.”
“I do feel bad carrying round a bag full of cash,” Pohl said, shoulder weighed down.
“Are we going to look suspicious paying it into a bank tomorrow?” Joe pondered.
“This is Rome, there’s been dodgy deals here since the ninth century BC, we’ll find a way,” and with Dee’s words comforting them they all got into the car to drive back.
“So we’re celebrating,” Nazir asked.
“Yes,” said Dee.
“Right, I need you to come out with me tonight as my wingman.”
“Winglady,”
“Whatever.”
“And why would I be your winglady?”
“It’ll be fun!”
“I’ll tell you what’ll happen, you’ll try and chat up a gay Swiss Guard and some fucker will think I’m your drag act sidekick.”
“Now that would be funny. Hang on, has that ever happened?”
“Yes. We don’t talk about it. Stop fucking laughing you three.”
“You so have to come out with me. It’ll be outrageous.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll come. But you don’t speak Italian and we’re in the middle of where they make it.”
“There are plenty of those soldiers who speak English. Or who speak the language of pulling.”
“And what are you going to say to them? Come back to my rooms, you can speak to your dead granny?”
Nazir grinned, showing off his teeth. “Once you’ve had brown you can’t sit down.”
Dee put her head in her hands, “We’re going to be deported.”
Eight: Factions
Dee had just woken up and her head hurt. Over the years she’d developed the capacity to drink a large quantity of alcohol without pain the next day, so something else must be the cause. Hmm, she lay there with her head throb
bing and decided she must have slept awkwardly. Which was when she realised she was still clothed, and that the night must have been good. The neck problem must have been dancing.
Still, a hot shower should sort that out, so she dived in, burnt the flesh off where the pressure hadn’t scoured it off and slipped into a white dressing gown which she’d only reluctantly admit was fluffy before she heard someone knocking on the front door.
Opening it she was pleased to see it wasn’t anyone who’d judge her for the wet hair and drowned puppy look, because it was Nazir.
Nazir with a large box.
“I thought you’d still be at the club telling everyone you’d fucked a Swiss Guard.”
“Sadly the club shuts, but I was woken this morning with a surprise.”
It didn’t take much to conclude what that was. “And you’re bringing it round here?”
“Don’t you love a good unboxing?”
“I’d rather pull my own uterus out. But I’m making breakfast, so come in and have some.”
They were soon in the kitchen, bacon was under the grill, coffee was being served, and Nazir was using a kitchen knife to open his box.
“I cook with that.”
“I’ll be cooking with this.”
“What is it?”
“On the one hand, it’s a collection of electronics from a very private retailer who specialises in subterfuge. On the other it’s a big box of toys.”
“You spent your share of our two hundred thousand at a James Bond wannabe shop?”
“Some of it. Right, what have we here,” and the big box turned into lots of little boxes.
“Do you have a better coffee machine? With all of us here we should buy a proper, serious one.”
“Good call, get on that.”
“Do you want bacon now or after you’ve opened one?”
“Always now.”
It took a few minutes for the sandwich to be eaten, and for the bacon to work its magic powers on Dee, by which point Nazir had begun opening boxes, holding things up and telling Dee what they were, with a small demo if possible. The pile soon turned into a full table coating of plastic and toys, and Pohl had come in to watch as she collected a new cup.
“And what’s that last one?” Dee asked.
“This,” and Nazir chopped through more tape, “detects bugs.”
“Are you getting paranoid?” Dee teased.
“I thought I’d complete the range.”
