by Declan Finn
And Mikhailov, unlike his daughter, did not have the weight of a fully grown man to slow him down. That allowed him the chance to get out of the hanger before the jet fuel blew it to shreds.
Maybe he should send Ryan a thank-you card when it was all over. The boy had given him a better escape than he had dreamed of. It would be months before they discovered he was not among the wreckage. And he only needed days.
This isn’t the end, he thought. This isn’t the beginning of the end, merely the end of the beginning.
While he placed his mug down, he glanced at the three men across from him, placed in the best armchairs he could provide. Each was immaculately dressed—one in Armani, another in Versace, and a third in London Fog. Two were Asian, and the third Middle Eastern—thoroughly Arabic. Two were representatives from a People’s Republic—China and North Korea. The third was the UN representative from Khartoum, Sudan.
Mikhailov straightened his own tie—black with the KGB sword and shield on it—and said, “I assure you, gentlemen, that the plan is actually going perfectly.”
The rep from the PRC wasn’t amused. His wrinkled features were harsh and stern—and that was when he smiled. He hadn’t smiled for two days. “I cannot believe that this is what you call success. You were going to have one of your…” he glanced at the Arab to his left, “other associates cause a distraction at the Vatican with a suicide airplane, and then have your own forces lead the raid on their holdings.”
Mikhailov smiled. “Oh, but Mr. Ambassador, this is even better. In the original plan, we were going to have the UN approve it retroactively. Now it’s simply a covert mission gone wrong, already approved by the United Nations Human Rights Commission.”
The Sudanese ambassador cracked his knuckles. “And how do you propose we actually succeed? We have paid you considerable funds, Russian.”
Mikhailov bared his teeth. “We were going to charge you for expenses, and for whatever profits are…confiscated from the Vatican treasures. However, the profits just became larger for all concerned.”
The Korean ambassador was about to object once more to the seating arrangement—as he had with all of Mikhailov’s meetings—but this time, stopped. “What do you mean?”
Mikhailov laughed. “What would your glorious leader think about a set of marble columns—an entire colonnade—leading to his front door?”
He glanced to the Sudanese ambassador. “How would you like a new Mosque in St. Peter’s Basilica?”
He nodded to the Chinaman. “How would you like the dome of St. Peter’s capping off the Politburo?”
He spread his arms theatrically. “Don’t you see? We can all benefit. Not only will you have a man in Rome—controlled by me—you will have all the properties owned by the Vatican. And you won’t have to pay me a thing for expenses.”
He grinned. “We’ll have the United Nations pay for it.”
“And how will this happen?” the Chinaman asked.
* * *
At two-thirty, when the United Nations reconvened, the Sudanese representative stood to address the assembly.
“My friends of the international community,” he began, “I have been chosen to discuss this matter on behalf of my partner nations in this effort. We had planned the operation in advance of a United Nations confirmation of the action. What my colleague from Italy has discussed was only an unplanned side effect of the operation. We sent operatives in advance, trying to build up a force slowly, over time, in order that we might be prepared for the resolution to be approved.”
“What resolution?” the US ambassador asked.
“A resolution, drafted by myself and my fellow members of the Human Rights Commission, declaring the Roman Catholic Church an inhumane organization that abuses the human rights of its members, and the nations of the world in which it operates.”
“In what version of reality?” the United Kingdom ambassador demanded.
“In this one, Mr. Ambassador. In this one. The Roman Catholic Church has denied to its members the right to abortion, in plain defiance of human rights as defined by this assembly! They have denied their priestly members the right to have sex whenever they wish, and have even denied them the right to get married.
“As everyone knows, the Roman Catholic Church is an organization that hates women and homosexuals. Thus it condemns any homosexual to a life of celibacy or to Hell, ostracizing them from the community, and promoting violence against both men and women. Meanwhile, they support pedophiles against the laws of every nation. Members of the United States Senate have even stated that the church has declared a war on women!
“The Catholic Church, as an institution, is guilty of the murders of millions of Muslims during their Crusades and their Inquisition—and there is no statute of limitation on murder. In fact, we believe it to be the biggest human rights violator on the planet, surpassing even the United States of America, for the crime of supporting and aiding the Nazis during their twelve-year reign of terror across the world.
“And to this end, we propose that the assets of the Church be taken in reparation for the victims of their crimes, for the families of six million Jews, the families of the countless abused children, and the homosexuals and women victimized by this terrible organization. Not only that, but they have suppressed the progression of science and all of human society, from Galileo, Avicenna, Copernicus, and Isaac Newton.”
The Italian ambassador stood, this mouth agape for a moment, but only a moment. In a second, his hands blurred through the air as he fired off rapid fire Italian so fast that even the translators had a hard time keeping up, but the hand gestures were plain enough.
“This is preposterous, and insulting,” the Italian spat. “And how can you possibly justify an attack on the Vatican in order to rob it, when your country, Mr. Ambassador, has executed and killed millions of people in a savage civil war, and no one here has even suggested invasion? You have dropped walls on homosexuals and have even hosted the known anti-Semite Osama bin Laden. There are dozens of resolutions condemning Israel, and this Assembly has done nothing to act on it, but you have complained about the Vatican once and intend to act?”
The Sudanese ambassador smiled. “Because, Mr. Ambassador, those resolutions against Israel were filed under Chapter 6, as…suggestions…as from a friend. We are filing this under Chapter 7, actionable offenses. You remember Chapter 7; it is where we filed the Iraqi weapons programs.”
He slipped out a large booklet and continued. “We have just filed with the World Court to have the present Pope brought up on charges of human rights abuses. And I call for a vote of this assembly to take up and enforce this resolution—to stop the human rights abuses of the Roman Catholic Church. We must and will take swift and immediate action, by any means necessary.”
* * *
Vatican City
8:30 PM, Local time
Around the globe, Sean Ryan, Inna Petraro, Pope Pius XIII, DCI Charles Weaver, two Williams relations, Maureen McGrail, Mathew Kovach, and the entire intelligence community thought as one:
What the hell?
Inna Petraro looked up at her fiancé, standing behind her chair. “They cannot be serious, can they?”
Ryan gripped her shoulders, still staring at the television monitor in disbelief. “I don’t know, darling, I don’t know.”
“It’ll never happen,” Goldberg stated bluntly. “It can’t. The United States would veto it, and it would be dead on arrival.”
XO lit another cigarette. “That’s what you think. Ignore, for a moment, the current President’s rather grim outlook on the Catholic Church. He declared freedom of religion as ‘freedom to worship, now shut up.’ And he’s been at odds with the US Council of Bishops since his administration decided that churches aren’t religious enough to be exempted from paying for abortions as part of ‘healthcare.’
“Then look at who’s on the rest of the Security Council,” XO continued, drawing on the cigarette again. “The United Kingdom? Why should th
ey help us? And they may decide to just buy some favors at our expense with the European Union. We know France and Germany will be on the side of the demons in this one, if only because the French can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to be bought—witness the Iraqi food-for-oil scandal, where Saddam managed to buy his veto from France, Russia, and Germany. And Russia and China were two of the ringleaders behind this entire ordeal. All one needs is a United States abstention, and we’re screwed.”
Goldberg frowned, annoyed that President Barry probably would do it. “Fine, the Chinese aren’t your friends, and the Russians probably aren’t too friendly…and, okay, the French elite haven’t been on your side since 1792, but the British can’t be that bad.”
Maureen McGrail sighed. “I hate to break it to you, but if the British decided to support the Vatican, there is a large and actively violent Protestant faction in Northern Ireland with nothing better to do since peace broke out in the late ’90s. The British spent about forty years fighting the IRA. They don’t want another fight on their hands now.”
Secret Service Agent Goldberg lightly slapped herself. “Okay, fine, we can’t exactly count on the British. So what? Can you imagine the President of the United States of American going along with this crap? Please.”
* * *
New York City
Within minutes after the UN General Assembly adjourned into chaos, one reputable and very vocal public figure held a press conference. He happened to be an ACLU lawyer.
The lawyer smiled, then ran a hand over his head to make sure that his graying ponytail was in place. His high-pitched, almost falsetto, voice announced, “We have just filed a lawsuit against the Federal government on behalf of NOW, NAMBLA, and the NAACP, to bar the Federal government from supporting the Roman Catholic Church against the United Nations.
“Not only would the government be supporting a religion in violation of the First Amendment, but it would be extending the power of the American government in support of a criminal, racist organization that hates women, gays, and protects pedophiles. They categorically deny women their natural right to have abortions, and are probably responsible for the deaths of unknown family planning specialists by giving aide, comfort, and moral support to such right-wing groups.
“We of the ACLU, as well as our clients, cannot abide the protection of such an organization by the United States government.”
One reporter could be heard over the usual braying of media jackals. “You’re suing on behalf of the Man Boy Love Association, and you’re complaining about pedophilia?”
The lawyer stiffened, as though offended. “There’s a difference between love and rape.”
Someone else, perhaps even the same reporter, said, “But in over 70 years, there have been only 100 such abusive priests, all of them ordained before the early 1990s, when new screening processes were put in place—they were ordained during the 1970s, during the ‘sexual revolution.’ Does that mean you’re condemning that revolution?”
“As though that matters—”
A new voice, one that sounded more prompting than questioning, said, “The First Amendment says that ‘Congress shall make no law’ in reference to religion. If the President acted against the UN, it wouldn’t be outlawing Judaism, or making Catholicism the national religion, or taking orders from the Pope. Wouldn’t it simply be giving aid to a non-hostile nation who looks like it’s going to be abused by outside forces?”
The lawyer gasped in mock-indignation. “Really, Tom, the consensus of the international community is rapidly turning against Vatican City. Those people—those Catholics—have criticized every nation on earth, interfered with sovereign governments in the name of their so-called morality. If the nations of the world say that it has to go, then it has to go. The French, the Germans, the Russians, the Sudanese, the Chinese, the Libyans. I could go on, but what’s the point?”
The reporter called “Tom” said, “Some critics could say that the Catholic Church runs most of the AIDS facilities on the planet. Since more than half of AIDS patients are gay, these critics say that Catholics can’t be the primary enemies of the gay community. And there have only been six abortionists assassinated between Roe vs. Wade and 2004.”
The ACLU man stroked his long, graying beard and chuckled. “I can have specialists lined up a mile deep to refute any numbers or statistics you might have, Tom. I have been representing all of these groups for most of my life. And I fail to see how a few measly acts of support could justify the church’s policies on these matters.”
The first reporter, who was clearly from that network, said, “Don’t you mean that you’ve persecuted the Catholic Church for decades? You’ve tried to get accused pedophiles prosecuted well after the statute of limitations—all of them priests who haven’t committed a crime since, assuming they were guilty in the first place. But you defend the rights of pedophiles as long as they are not Roman Catholic clergy! NAMBLA comes to mind. You’ve also sued the Catholics on behalf of clients who not only settled with the Church, but also clients who were certifiably insane.”
The ACLU lawyer laughed. “Now you fell into the trap. Those last cases were few and far between, most of our clients have been model citizens—”
“This from an organization that defended Nazis, the Klan, cop killers, and terrorists?
Then the shouting really got under way.
* * *
Matthew Kovach sighed. “And there goes a US veto.”
McGrail looked around the room, and everyone else appeared to have the same thought. “What did I miss?”
Fr. Williams shrugged. “Even if the President wanted to veto, that lawyer represents most of his political allies. If the President didn’t want to veto the UN resolution, that just gave him something to hang his hat on.”
Goldberg growled. “Darn ‘international community.’ ”
XO shook his head. “Remember, most of the members of the UN aren’t even democracies.”
Fr. Williams frowned. “This could be bad.”
Scott Murphy looked at him. “No kidding. Now what do we do?”
XO considered it a moment. “It’s going to be a propaganda war, and we’ll need testimonies from everyone. We can’t lose anyone. We need all the help we can get.”
Manana sighed. “What good will it do? You heard the Italian ambassador. He laid out the entire story, and the UN still ignored it. I’ll lay money right now that if you turn to any news network, you’ll find someone saying that everything the Italian ambassador said about Pius in World War II is a collection of lies.”
Ryan picked up the remote and flicked it to one of the random channels. James Carroll was on. He flipped to another. Garry Wills was on. He turned the TV off.
Scott nodded. “Another problem: I’m a spy. I can’t give testimony.”
“And I,” Manana said, “am an admitted traitor to Germany.”
Wayne Williams nodded. “Da,” he said in his faux Russian accent. “I’m not exactly great testimony material either.”
Goldberg shrugged. “I can’t see what I can do. Unless there’s something to hack into, all I’m going to do is take up space, and given how cramped the office is right now, I think we’re running out of room.”
Figlia looked around. “Fourteen people in one room is a little much. It could be worse, the Pope could come in soon enough.”
Sean Ryan nodded. “Besides, we’re all a bunch of sitting ducks. If someone armed Cardinal Canella, and sent him in here with an Uzi, we’d be killed in the crossfire.”
Wilhelmina Goldberg looked at her watch. “I haven’t reported in since last night. I should ask some friends to start searching for those morons of Hans Franke...or Ioseph Mikhailov, or whatever alias he used before Sean dropped a house on him.” She rose from the chair and looked at Manana. “No offense, but your father’s a son of a bitch, and I’d have killed him if I could.”
She looked at her with blank eyes. “Take a number and get in line.”
“Darn,�
�� Ryan added, “you stole my line.”
Petraro patted his hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll get another one.”
Goldberg sighed. “Besides, there’s also one other thing—I’m going to see if the President still wants me anywhere near the Pope after that assembly meeting.”
Ronnie Fisher looked at her watch. “I need to check on the progress from the crime scenes. You folks really know how to show a girl a good time.” She looked at her husband. “I’ll see you later, Gianni.”
Fr. Williams looked at the clock, and added, “I have a contact or two that I can chat with in Ireland. If you’re right, Mani, I think I know someone who can help find the killer of Fr. Harrington in Dublin.”
Matthew Kovach smiled. “Are you thinking of Deaglan Lynch?”
“I am.”
“Good, so am I. Great minds think alike.” Kovach stood and straightened. “We’ll see if the three of us can bully our way past the hierarchy of the IRA. With luck, it won’t take more than an hour.”
“Don’t hurry,” Wayne waved.
After Kovach departed, the Williams parent stood. “I’m going to put my ear to the ground and see what I hear. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to knock some heads as well.”
Manana watched him leave. “He started out amusing, he’s turned cranky.”
Murphy chuckled. “Where’d you pick up the kid?”
Petraro smiled. “He is one of my clients.”
Her fiancé nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I met him in the boondocks of Long Island during a science fiction convention. I’ve not been able to shake him since.”
Murphy laughed involuntarily. “He writes novels like James Patterson, or Patricia Cornwell, and he’s what, maybe twenty-five?”
“About that.”
XO got off the phone and turned toward the room. “Where’d everyone go?”
“They all went to check in with their commanding officers,” Figlia answered. “I suggest that we try the same. I have a security force to run, and I’ve been stuck here all day watching television.”