James Bond he wasn’t.
At the end of a month, Richard returned to London. Six months later, Tawney was in London and staying at Lansdowne Park, now working with, and for the mysterious Dr. Edward St. James. Edward had known all about the Richard and Tawney romance and counted heavily on it to recruit her to his project.
Marcus had a different reason for being involved, something he and Edward had planned long ago. But Tawney was the intellectual prize that Edward wanted; Marcus knew it and was proud. Her value, in conjunction with her father, and Richard and Alvin Detwiler, would alter the course of future events and expose the soft underbelly of the Gens Collective, and later, the Black Shirts.
When the Gens languages and codes were finally deciphered, Hannah could then work up the anthropological profiles of an intelligent species, the Gens, who, in both transformed, and natural states, could be almost as predictable as the tides, or the rising and setting of the sun. Rigidly hierarchical and predictably authoritarian in transformed state, the Gens behaviors in natural state were almost identical. Social creatures, they hunted, traveled, and lived in packs and clans. Find one and you found many. Lone wolves didn’t exist, and there were no solitary or reclusive individuals in the wild.
When Bitsie Tolan, and her predictive modelling came into play, the combination of skills would be devastating to the Gens.
This would be key intelligence in field operations, understanding how the Gens would react to stressors. It would make the Gens Collective vulnerable in ways they couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Had their leadership ever valued the “soft”, squishy academic pursuits that humans valued so highly, they would’ve known all this. But they didn’t, deeming it a waste of time and resources.
The race was on, though neither side knew it.
***
It was early morning and Tawney came downstairs from her rooms on the second floor to find her new boyfriend already at the kitchen table, coffee made, and the London Times spread out before him. By six am every morning, seven days a week, Richard was up, showered and dressed in his work uniform, reading the paper and starting the day with strong coffee.
“I thought you Brits were addicted to tea. What’s with the morning expresso with a chaser of French Roast?”
“The horrible influence of our Yankee Cousins in the Colonies. With honorable mention for the able roasting talents of our French and Italian friends. Tea is nice, but coffee, coffee was given to us by the gods. Greek, I think.”
“I missed you last night. Thought you’d stop by. Later.”
“You said not to. You had to think things over. Remember?”
“You can’t believe everything I say. You know I’m hopelessly conflicted. Except about you. I think.”
“Now that was a vote of … what? Besides, no means no. And I take that seriously. I can wait, when and if you need me to, you know …”
“I wish you wouldn’t. You know I … I mean you know that, don’t you?”
“Know what, Tawney? C’mon spit it out. I know you can.”
“You’re cruel. And half the time I think you’re making fun of me. British style and I don’t get it. You’re not very nice.”
“Matzo balls and bull rushes, my sweet. I love you and you know that. And I’d never make fun of you. Never. Please stop this fishing for compliments just because you’re so insecure. And say it. If you say it once, it’s a lot easier the second time.”
“You love me? Really?”
“I love you and, yes, really. You are very hard to understand at times. Inscrutable. Maddeningly so. Sometimes I feel like I’m just holding on. Never sure what’s coming next. You could help me out here, you know.”
“How?”
“Relax and believe me when I say I adore you. Say you love me too. That would be nice.”
“Am I an awful girlfriend?”
“Sometimes.”
“Really?”
“No, not really, but you are inscrutable. That’s the best word I can think of.”
“I love you too. You know it though. I know you do. You just want me to say it aloud.”
“Correct. Now was that so hard?”
“Yes. I have only ever said that to my mother and father. And the twins.”
“Now me.”
“Now you. Don’t abuse it. In my world, it’s special. Not to be bandied about and used like common currency.”
“If you come over here and give me a kiss, I’ll make you breakfast. Scouts honor.”
“You were never a scout.”
“True, but as a bona fide English gentleman and I have loads of honor.”
“Will there be bacon?”
“There will. And toast and eggs, no beans, and fresh coffee. And juice, but not fresh squeezed the way you like it.”
“Will you visit me tonight?”
“If you wish. You know I want to.”
“Maybe every night from now on? I’m asking you as an English gentleman.”
“What if I snore? Or talk in my sleep? I may make untoward advances.”
“Just make sure those advances are toward me. We’ll discuss this snoring, and sleep talking at a later date. Now, I’m hungry as a horse, and I need my coffee.”
“Just say it one more time, then I’ll get to work.”
“I love you.”
“See, I knew it all along.”
“I know. So, did I.”
Chapter 33
Before Cardinal Bellinelli was Cardinal Bellinelli, he was Federico Musso, an interesting young man sent by his family to Spain to oversee the family business there and in France just across-the-Pyrenees. That he was plainly a psychopath with an unimaginable level of rage seeking an outlet was well-known to his family. That they were in Switzerland, and he was on the other end of Europe wasn’t lost on young Federico who nonetheless loved his family and idolized his father. Murder was the family business, so Federico was quite happy for the employment his father provided, and the training and lessons Federico received. His father encouraged him, told him of his rare gifts, but admonished him not to become complacent or given to excess. His father explained that Federico’s key to a long, and fruitful life would be to keep some of his eccentricities in check, and to master, and channel his skills properly.
Discipline, his father taught him, total discipline was the way forward as it had been for his people for over two millennia.
Federico’s father promised him a path to unimaginable pleasure if he stuck to the regimen he outlined for young Federico. When others in the organization failed in their assignments, Federico’s father took the time to explain why. Then Federico would be asked to analyze these errors. Over time, his father took on an almost mythological persona for Federico. When his father died, Federico took it hard.
Federico had been a physician in Switzerland but had run afoul of the Swiss Board of Medical Ethics and those pesky medical authorities, along with the police, and some very angry families. He decided in the best interest of everyone that he would voluntarily relinquish his medical license and go into another line of work. This he was going to do anyway, so the Swiss authorities were relieved when young Federico Musso was found dead, curled around a roadside tree, encased in a car. He had died in a rather tragic car crash involving only him on a late foggy night. He had hit a two-hundred-year old oak tree along the highway going 120 kph. He was pronounced dead at the scene; his parents subsequently identified his remains at the local morgue, and he was cremated and interred without fanfare in the family cemetery.
Of course, some other poor unfortunate had been kind enough to sit in for Federico and get burned to a crisp in the ensuing fire that fully engulfed the family automobile. Amazingly risen from the dead, Federico sat down with his parents and siblings to plan the next few years that would eventually become his lifetime. Part one of the plan involved his untimely death; part two, his move to Spain; part three his taking over the family business that was boomin
g in both Spain and France.
When he arrived in Spain, his family had arranged to have a plastic surgeon, a member of his extended family do some “work” on his face to make him look more like a dashing young Priest named Nunzio Bellenelli, but with enough “Musso” features to pass for d a distant cousin Nunzio had attracted the attention of certain members of the Vatican for his pious beliefs, simple lifestyle, and humble service before God with the poor and suffering. But it was his academic acumen on a variety of arcane, and ancient subjects that had also brought him to their attention. The young Nunzio had lost his parents at an early age and had been raised by a somewhat elderly couple who had both passed when he was in his early twenties; he was from a small mountain village from which he left, and to which he never returned.
Admitted to the priesthood, he was sent to remote regions at his own request and for many years was the only Priest assigned to these outposts. How Federico’s parents or organization came to know about the young Nunzio was a mystery, but in due course Nunzio was summoned back to Italy. The Nunzio that showed up looked very much like the real Nunzio but, alas, it wasn’t him. The real Nunzio now resided at the bottom of a ravine in a remote and mountainous area in the Andes. Federico Musso was now Nunzio Bellenelli and had now begun his dual career as both a pious Priest and hired assassin. His plastic surgeon in Spain, Marta Jimenez Marques de Montoya, became his wife and moved along with their young son to the Lake Como region on the old Musso family estate. The new Federico looked a little like the deceased son of the late Rico Musso, but he assured the local folk were that this new “Federico” was in fact a distant cousin come to claim his inheritance. Like the Musso’s occupying the family estate before them, this Musso clan also kept to themselves, and engaged no servants. Business associates and extended family were frequent visitors and the family was quite generous in the support of the local arts and civic events. They seldom left their large estate and turned down all honors bestowed upon them that required attendance outside their immediate environment.
In due course, Marta and Federico were blessed with a second child, a girl, and the entire village celebrated with the family.
The villagers noted that this Federico would very often be absent from the estates for very long periods of time and return quite unexpectedly for very short periods of time. The Musso’s never explained this odd behavior, believing instead that private matters need not be explained to the public. After years of this odd behavior, the villagers simply came to accept that this was the way things had always been and would continue to be.
The Musso family under the direction of this “cousin” Federico had become extremely wealthy and had spread to all corners of the globe. Federico was now the President and CEO of a multinational conglomerate, dealing in death and a variety of related products and services.
***
The new Federico plugged himself into life in Rome, where the now recently deceased Nunzio had been placed by the Church hierarchy. His field work among the poor, his language skills, his utter dedication to the Church and interest in Church history had made him an excellent candidate for a rare opening in one of the more obscure departments in one of the lesser known Papal Commissions. A small secret and untitled organization, situated somewhere between the formal work carried on by the Pontifical Commission for Sacred Archaeology and the Pontifical Commission for the Cultural Heritage of the Church, was run by a designated Cardinal and hand-picked group of the Church faithful. Not all were ordained into the Priesthood; indeed, there were a goodly number of men and women outside the Vatican that were a part of this group, and whose anthropological work and activity were solely directed by this Cardinal and his team.
The rare opening was created by the untimely death of a Priest who had only been assigned to the group within the past several years. The skills of this young man were commensurate with Nunzio’s, so when the opening came about, Nunzio’s name went on the long list of candidates, then the short list, the final five and finally he was the one chosen. Federico and his family couldn’t have been more delighted at this confluence of events. Of course, they had murdered the real Nunzio as well as the young man whose death created the opening in order to create the possibility of Federico gaining the open position. Nonetheless, it was still considered an extreme longshot for Federico to accede to the position then or ever.
Life being as odd as it is, the gambit paid off. Federico was now exactly where he wanted to be in order to right a wrong perpetrated on his family and his kind over two hundred years ago. To do this he needed access to certain files hidden away from all the faithful, even the Pope.
He now knew where they were, and how to find them. He went to work each day, moved up the ladder, and finally took over the organization on an interim basis until he was eventually elevated to Cardinal following the death of the elderly, and frail man who had so long been in charge.
It had taken over twenty years, but he was now ready to act. And they had no idea who he was or why he was coming for them. In fact, quite the opposite. The Gens Collective always counted the Church as a benign supporter, never an enemy or adversary.
Things had changed.
Chapter 34
Cardinal Bellinelli sat in his luxurious office at the Vatican, reviewing his schedule for the next six months. He was scheduled to travel extensively on behalf of the Church but, in fact, he would spend most of that time at home in Switzerland punctuated by infrequent trips on real business. However, none of that business would be Church business; he had his team at the Vatican to take care of most mundane Church matters. Bellinelli reflected on his many years of Church service, and his rapid rise to power, all brought about more than twenty years ago according to an ambitious plan he had concocted with his wife, family and others in his business hierarchy. That it had worked well, and beyond anyone’s expectations, was largely due to the good Cardinals skills and single-minded pursuit of one solitary goal. Twenty years earlier this path seemed to be the only way; today he understood he had other options. Dangerous he thought, but if he was careful and prudent, he could take care of the big problem, the Collective, then resolve what he hoped would be the smaller problem, the Black Shirts.
Truthfully, he had no idea what he was getting himself into, but since no decisions had been made yet, he decided to keep searching, keep probing for new avenues and methods to accomplish his goals. Unfortunately, what he thought was the big problem was in fact the small problem, and vice versa.
Bellinelli was expecting a call today from the leader of the small problem, Saldana Ri. She had contacted him on the secure email server and asked to have a chat. He had no idea what she wanted, but had his suspicions following the debacle a few months back with the Americans. He of course was nowhere near the Vatican on that day and had been deft in explaining away what must’ve happened. Since he had made it happen, he was fully prepared to be questioned by the Vatican police to prove his non-involvement. A sad case, really, he said one the Vatican police and tech department ought to explore carefully and thoroughly. Clearly someone had intercepted emails, and forged documents as well as impersonated various personages at the Holy See.
Bellinelli didn’t fully understand Cesare Maroni, head of the tech department of the Vatican police. Cesare had made his career protecting Vatican secrets, of which there were many, from intrusions into sensitive digital information, including the Vatican Bank.
Cesare knew a liar and dissembler when he met one; they gave answers that were too canned, too pat, and too prepared for the obvious questions he would be asking. Real innocents reacted and answered questions in a certain way, the guilty followed a far different pattern. Then there were the sociopaths who could lie convincingly and deceive even him.
Cesare was convinced that Cardinal Bellinelli was lying, and that the good Cardinal knew much more about what had happened with the Americans, from beginning to end, than he was saying. The Cardinal seemed to be able to too easily anticipate what C
easare, and his men would be asking and provided far too much detail for someone who wasn’t involved and supposedly knew nothing. He mentioned to the Vatican Police that he thought Dr. St. James might’ve been set up. Something wasn’t right; he and his team would soon know what it was.
Cesare began his investigation into the incident by investigating the Cardinal himself.
***
Cesare Maroni was a devout Catholic from a Swiss region bordering northern Italy. His father and grandfather before him had served with the Pontifical Swiss Guard of the Holy See, the Guardia Svizzera Pontificia, and for generations before had been in the corps of mercenary Swiss Guards serving various European nations. Switzerland had not always been a wealthy nation and, in past centuries, one way for a young Swiss man to make his fortune was in military service abroad.
That was no longer the case, so Cesare took the normal route of serving first in the Swiss military, obtaining the necessary clearances of good conduct, then applying for a position he was destined to accept in the Swiss Guard. He served with distinction and eventually asked to be permitted to continue serving with the Vatican police, the Corpo della Gendarmeria dello Stato della Città del Vaticano.
He was eventually accepted into the small force and assigned to a special group dedicated to installing, servicing and protecting the technology employed by the Vatican, including protecting the systems used by the Vatican Bank, the Istituto per le Opere di Religione. He had received special training over the years and discovered he had an aptitude for high tech.
He loved his work, his Pope and everything concerning the Vatican. When he uncovered wrongdoing, fraud and immoral conduct, he firmly believed himself to be on the side of angels in protecting Holy Mother Church from the paltry few who had abused the position granted to them by God himself. It was an honor and a privilege to serve his Holiness, not a job.
Investigating a Cardinal, indeed any high ranking and well connected Cardinal, would be a tricky business. He followed protocol and first discussed the matter with the head of the Vatican Police, who in turn sought the counsel of his Holiness’ private secretary. The investigation would be allowed; this wasn’t the first inquiry sought into the background of Cardinal Bellinelli. And if the new Pope’s insistance on transparency in ordinary matters within the Holy See was ever to become reality, it would have to begin with the understanding that no one, other than the Pope himself, was exempt from examination.
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