“So how does this affect the price of tea at Prince’s?”
“I think I can broker a solution.”
Knight said it was really all about money, not the Church or the Papacy. The conspirators wanted assets and their proposal made all the sense in the world. Between Knight’s, Annie’s and the SPPT stakes in Analog Machinery, the corporation would be taken private and then a one percent interest would be transferred to “parties unknown.” Once they held the shares in their hands, an Iscariot bombing run would clearly be inapposite so the virus would be destroyed. To sweeten the deal, so would the vid.
“Peter? You can’t beat this with a riding crop. You get your well-deserved second term, I get what I’m destined to… amping up AMI’s value to the benefit of all concerned … and everybody else gets on with their pursuits.”
“Where’s all this information coming from, Mr. Knight?”
“You can call me Archie.”
“I’m aware of my capabilities, both strong and weak.”
Knight glanced back to the painting. “Intermediaries. Well-paid intermediaries.” He paused. “Intermediaries who know a risk when they see one.”
“Yours? Transponder’s? Others?”
“Others, Holiness. I’ll provide all of the details after the denouement.”
The Pope looked to the fluxion again. “Terry?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Secretary of Finance portfolio. What’s your call?”
I don’t know if you’re listening, Sir. I might be an amateur, but I’m not a fucking amateur.
“Finance declines, Sir.”
“You know something, young man? It was I who personally lobbied for you to get the Exec position.”
Don’t say it. Shit, why not?
“Must not have done a very good job. All I got was Co-Exec.”
Clarence laughed, shook his head. “My baby brother! Parked one in the upper deck.”
Knight wasn’t amused. “I’ll deal with you later, Mr. Samson. You ungrateful prick.”
Don’t say it.
“Secretary Prick… Sir.”
“Battin’ one thousand,” the guard added.
“And you too, you fucking worthless shoe shine boy.”
“Archie?” Peter said, standing. Palms on the desk. “If you ever address Mr. Johnson, Secretary Samson or any other member of my staff in that tone or in such hateful words again, you will never be allowed to return to the grounds of the Creek. And I will personally see to it your rank and membership within Party is terminated.”
Instead of re-detonating, an odd calm came over the man. He cleared his throat, then continued with eerie gentility.
“I understand you enjoy high stakes wagering, Holiness. But you’ve picked the wrong horse to bet on because this time tomorrow, I doubt you’ll have a staff except maybe one in your hands as you enter the wilderness.”
Knight said that he was prepared to short all of his AMI stock effective midnight at the day’s closing price. Once Iscariot was released, he guessed he’d have made hundreds of billion of dollars on the trade, more than enough to buy working control of the entire company a few days later with plenty left over for other acquisitions.
“Secretary Samson declined,” Peter replied.
“Secretary Prick belongs to the previous administration.”
Knight removed a shiny gold, two inch CDCD7 from his pocket and eased over to the media hutch. “May I?”
Peter nodded.
Samson recognized the setting instantly. It was a suite at The Westwood Martemont. From the angle, the camera must have been set above the chandelier in the dining area. There was Mozart playing in the background. The only illumination was from a pair of candles on the writing desk that the camera zoomed in on, focused, and then pulled back. It then panned to the right, past the divan and the balcony entrance, settling on an amorous couple on the further of two love seats. Both of them were naked, kissing passionately.
The nightmare was true. It was Peter and Angelique.
“This was shot November 22nd last year at the Westwood Martemont approximately… actually just after 1:00 in the morning,” Knight said as he paused the vid. “You’ll recall you were there to deliver an address to the… to one of those industry associations. Do you remember your topic?”
The Pope sat down but said nothing.
“Your topic was the pervasiveness of pornography on the Supernet and what you, as the largest voter of AMI stock, planned to do about it.”
The only sound was the hum of the vid player.
“Now, Peter. I’m going to give you two options, either of which is acceptable to me. Option one. The pleasant option. You will sell the SPPT AMI stock to Transponder at today’s closing price before midnight. As part of this transaction, the Church will also transfer to Transponder all rights in The Diaries and the Pebble. Mind you, I have no nefarious purpose for them. In fact, they will be placed on public display in The Illinois Tower’s lobby and will be made available to the Church when required for scientific or archival examination. This little home movie,” he continued, glancing to the screen, “will be destroyed, as will Iscariot.”
I don’t know if you’re listening, Sir. In fact, I don’t even know if you exist anymore.
“Option two. The unpleasant option. I will allow my short contract to execute, Iscariot will make me richer than God and you will have pissed away an incredible amount of the Holy Mother fucking Church’s assets. I will make the vid available to whoever would like a copy. ’Nuff said?”
The Pope stared.
“The Council has been gunning for you for a year, Pete. Don’t kid yourself.”
“Takes all 12,” Peter finally said. “I doubt that Cardinal Primovich… “
“You think Johnny Boy’ll take a dive to save your ass? Don’t count on it. With my juice and his rep, he could become John the 24th.”
Fannie’s voice said through the intercom: “Sir Holiness? Cardinal Valenti to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Send him in.”
He stepped through the door in seconds. “Your indulgence, Holiness.”
“What is it, Angelo?”
“We’ve just discovered a breach in the fence in Southeast, below Cathedral. Might be nothing but… got a call earlier. Cult code words confirmed.”
“Where’s the Council?”
“Receipt.”
“Bring ’em over here for safekeeping and call out the reinforcements.” Then looking to Clarence, he added: “Take all our guests downstairs. To Ames.”
“I’ll just do that, Holiness.”
“And I’ll need a down payment, Holiness,” Knight said as he removed the video.
Peter thought a long moment then reached into one, then the other pocket of his tuxedo, searching. He sighed, then held up an oval stone that, even from across the room, Samson could see bore a cross. The Pope squeezed it in one hand, rolled it to the other, then tossed it to his tormentor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as the Council and the dinner guests were present in the pool room, Peter told Clarence to leave.
“But Holiness, I think under the… “
“I’ll be okay.”
“Yes, Sir. I believe you will be.”
After the guard retreated, Peter stepped to the center table and began lifting the balls from the pockets, then dropped them one by one onto the felt. “Seeing we’ve got a quorum present, let’s conduct some business.”
“I must object to the presence…” Estevez began.
“Shut up!” the Pope ordered. “Thank you. First off, the investigation into The Diaries has led me to the conclusion that they’re the real McCoys.”
“I do not understand this term,” Pelosi said.
“Conclusion? It means I decided something, that being they’re authentic.”
Stunned silence.
“The carbon dating is right on the money, the details much too compelling to ignore. Sebastian’s words speak for the
mselves.” He paused. “The Pebble is another issue.” He reached into his breast pocket, withdrew it and then held it up for all to see the irregular cross. “Best we can tell, this is the work of Mother Nature. Could it be the work of another force? Yes. Can we ever be certain? No. But more importantly, I think in light of all the evidence, Jesus did give this to Sebastian, so it’s probably,” he nodded, a small choke in his voice, “the only artifact in our possession, aside from the Shroud, we can be assured was touched by our Lord. But maybe it was a trick. The Diaries indicate Jesus was skilled at slight-of-hand and at much greater illusions. Just to test my theory, I’ve been practicing lately with the slight-of-hand angle. Pretty easy to convince an audience to see what they want to see. Wouldn’t you agree, Archie?”
Knight turned away as Pelosi approached. “But if we are to believe what that madman wrote, our Lord Jesus Christ was nothing but…”
“A man, Cardinal. A man. One who perhaps overestimated his place here on Earth but did the best with what he had to work with. One who perhaps lied to his closest friends in order to accomplish a greater good. One who possibly tricked his persecutors into making him a martyr. One who maybe succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh.”
“But Holiness!” Elliott chimed in. “If you sanction such a finding, what reason will our Flock have to worship him?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t worship him.”
Peter waited for the hubbub to fade before continuing. “Maybe we need to focus more on the lessons and less on the person.”
“This is heresy!” Elliott insisted.
“Not heresy, Cardinal. Reality. Besides, if I recall my Canon Law, only one of us here can declare a heresy. And that person ain’t you, my friend.”
“I won’t stand for this, Peter!” Knight put in. “If you sanction this gibberish, penned by an admittedly drunken, crazed, suicidal lunatic, then we’ll all be out on the streets!”
“What’s this I won’t stand for this crap? Besides, didn’t you express an interest in keeping them as a souvenir?”
Knight looked about the room. Stared back at the Pope, conciliation in his voice. “I… just don’t want you to destroy the accomplishments we’ve all worked so hard to achieve since Vatican III.” Then he stepped forward and kissed his ring. “You can’t betray us like this.”
Peter raised a finger to his own cheek. “I think Iscariot did it here. Speaking of which,” he went on, reaching into Knight’s pocket and then removing the CDCD7, “let’s share this with my associates.” After placing the video in the player, he lifted the remote control. He stepped away from the monitor as it began to play.
“I’ll show you betrayal. Guys and girls? This is the video you’ve all heard about.”
He let it run a bit past the earlier showing. To a tight shot of the lovers, the woman moaning: “Come on, honey. I promise not to tell if you don’t tell.” Then he froze the image as Knight edged beside Angelique.
“A modern-day Magdalene, neh?”
She looked to floor.
“Must we be subjected to this pornography?” Knight demanded.
“You were going to show it anyway, so I figured I’d save you the trouble.”
“You’ve lost your mind, Holiness. Wanting to show the Council the proof of your unforgivable tryst with this whore! How could you disgrace us like this!”
The Pope looked to the screen, then to his accuser. “How long have you had it, Archie? If it was so unforgivable, why wait until tonight to trot it out? I mean, let’s get it over with.”
Knight said to the Cardinal from Chicago: “Primovich? As you’re a member of the Council and Chair of the Sancters, I respectfully suggest you poll your colleagues regarding the removal of his Holiness from the papacy.”
The man looked sheepishly at Peter, then asked: “Bishop Mitchell? The rule?”
The reply didn’t contain a teaspoon of emotion. “Under the Ninth Protocol of the Vatican III Papal Concords, the Council of Twelve, by unanimous vote, that vote to be taken when at least seven members are present, may remove the reigning Pontiff from office due to physical, mental and/or moral fitness, and order a new election, the Church to be directed by the Council as Papal Factotum until said election is held.”
“Johnny? Whose side are you on?” Peter questioned.
“I only have one loyalty and one… lover, Holiness. Our Holy Mother Church.”
Peter crossed his arms defensively. “Don’t you want my explanation?”
Primovich brushed the protestation off. “I think we’ve heard and seen enough. I vote for removal and censure for lack of mental and moral fitness. Cardinal Elliott?”
“I agree.”
“Cardinal Descartes?”
“I agree.”
“Cardinal Del Maestro?”
“Removal.”
“Cardinal Preza?”
“I agree.”
“Cardinal Estevez?”
“I… si.”
“Cardinal Romero?”
“For removal, yes.”
“Cardinal Miyazawa?”
“Yes.”
“Cardinal Vasquez?”
“I agree.”
Primovich nodded his appreciation, then grinned at the priestess.
“And finally, Cardinal Pelosi?”
She looked to the Pope. “I agree…”
“Thank God!” Knight yelped.
She cast a sidelong glance then added, “I agree with his Holiness that we should hear the explanation before I vote.”
Knight and Primovich exchanged a surprised look. Peter gave a nod of thanks and then played the video in slow motion.
“Looks like Angelique Caulfield. Sounds like Angelique Caulfield. But it’s not Angelique Caulfield.” He eyed the singer. “Is it?”
Her feigned embarrassment was replaced by steely determination. “No, Holiness. It isn’t.”
“Of course you’d deny it, you slut!” Knight spit.
“Let her respond,” Pelosi cautioned.
Stepping back and forth in front of the screen, Caulfield addressed the jury like a seasoned defense attorney. “A close examination of this video reveals whoever was doing the makeup made two critical errors. First of all, you’ll note the small, tattooed cross on the upper right arm of our heroine.”
She leisurely unfastened three buttons of her blouse, exposing her shoulders and upper arms. “As you can see, my well-documented insignia is on my left arm.”
Murmurs and grunts.
“Secondly, I’ve got a less documented, half inch purplish birthmark on my upper left thigh,” she said, raising her skirt to display it. “A close examination of this video reveals our heroine doesn’t have one.”
“She could have covered it up!” Knight protested too quickly.
The singer cocked her head. “She? Or do you mean me?”
Knight went blank. “Her? You? What does it matter! She’s having sex with the Pope!”
All eyes turned to Peter. And he met each pair, individually, before saying, “Trouble is, it’s not me. It’s Guralski, Archie. Guralski and a woman named Margie Krell who Tommy Carnes and one of our guests this evening employed at various times for various duties. Angelique?”
“That’s right.”
“So where is this Krell person? How do we verify this nonsense?” Knight demanded.
“She was reported missing three days after Guralski was murdered in February,”
Peter stated. “Five days after this video was shot. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Knight took a confrontational step forward.
‘You’ve lost your mind, Peter! I’d no more…”
“First you had the video shot, then you had the players killed so there wouldn’t be any witnesses.”
The accuser composed himself as best he could, again dropping into a surreal calmness. “Pray tell me, Peter. Why? Why would I want to betray you?”
“You explained that in my office a few moments ago.”
The lo
ok on Knight’s face confirmed it yet he protested innocently, “I was only exploring strategic options.”
The Pope turned to his Council. “Juan Castro worked on it for months. How to stop a comp virus being readied to destroy the AMI Supernet. Last week he finished so it was just a matter of waiting for the culprits to show their faces. Most of them we already knew about and guessed how the rumored video, the murders, Iscariot and the SPPC Trust were connected. I have Mr. Knight’s confession from tonight caught on camera. Two cameras, actually.”
“You’re saying I have something to do with Iscariot?” the man demanded.
“You knew we had a counter ready but it took you until this afternoon to find it.” He looked to Samson. “When our unsuspecting shill Terry Samson pulled up Juan’s files on his home computer on ExtPath while the defense flame walls were down. The same files you couldn’t or wouldn’t manage to tap in Juan’s office.”
“Me and what army?”
Peter eyed the traitors. “You… Cardinal Johnny here… Mitchell… Ms. Pratt… and Mr. Sherwood.”
Primovich, Mitchell and Carter made to leave but stopped when the Pope suggested, “Don’t bother, guys.” Then he raised the remote and pointed at the far, empty wall. After a noise—metal bolts unlocking, Samson thought—it parted like the Red Sea must have for Moses. Gasps and exclamations in a half-dozen languages. Revealing a sophisticated electronics installation and six men: Clarence Johnson and Angelo Valenti, sidearms unholstered. Dinn Mannbet, the Vatican Guard’s champion marksman, cradling his titanium Deer Hunter. Jeffery Gayle. Kenley Cardinal Linhart. Juan Cardinal Castro.
Knight lunged at Mary Beth, wrapped an arm around her neck then drew his revolver, centering the barrel against her temple. “You always were one smart son-of-a bitch, Peter! Now let’s see if you’ve got a heart to match!”
“Everybody, please? Slowly down to your knees, then down on your chests,” Mannbet directed as he sighted his prey.
Most of them obeyed.
Peter raised a palm to calm Knight. He responded by cocking the hammer of his gun and daring: “Don’t call my bluff! Any of you!”
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