Life as a New Hire Ch. 47

"One condition," I said as our palms touched. His hawk-like gaze froze. "If my team decides you are not working for the Pontiff, they will kill you. They won't care about diplomatic protocols, or any presumed sanctity. If you are lucky, they will simply put two in the heart and one in the head. If your stars are misaligned, they will let you exercise all the counter-interrogation and torture-resistance techniques I'm sure the three of you know. Just so we are clear: If you are not working for who you claim to be working for you ... are ... dead, guaranteed. Still want in?"

"Mr. Nyilas ..." he hadn't let go of my hand yet.

"Don't bother," I interrupted. "A former Foreign Legionnaire, a Swiss Guard ex-Special Forces and the 'Nun with No Name' ... you can't claim to be anything approaching a normal ecclesiastical mission, Bishop de Santis - oh, and I'm going to start calling you Bishop Nicoló. I always use first names. It is a quirk of mine. Whomever sent you knows I work with some nasty people, doing wicked things to even more vile members of the various groups, clubs, agencies and other religions, cults and supernatural manifestations out there. Either you say 'yes' and put your lives in my hands, or 'no' and we part ways."

"What about your wedding plans and your wife-to-be?" he tried to get my measure. "What of the message of the Prince of Peace?"

"You aren't going to threaten my marriage in the same way I'm not going to threaten every Catholic living in Central Asia because the Great Khan is my 'blood'-brother. I won't do it because it's wrong and you won't do it because a major Catholic wedding in Hungary is nothing but good news for the Church. As for Christ ... he forgave a whore, so I figure there is still hope for me. Your answer?"

"Do we get our legally permitted weaponry back?" The bishop still held my hand.

"Sure. If it makes you feel better."

"I would like to meet your people then," he gave my paw one last shake then released me. "Shall we go?"

"I will have someone take you to your car. I want to briefly meet with the President - of Havenstone - then I'll join you in the garage. We'll drive over to JIKIT and I'll make the introductions. Good enough?"

"That is acceptable," he nodded.

"What about you two?" I regarded the nun and the Swiss Super-soldier. The nun remained vigilant - and silent. The Swiss' eyes flickered to his boss before settling back on me.

"It is what I volunteered for," he stated firmly.

"Okay. Please never say I didn't give you a chance to take the sane way out. Also, Bishop Nicoló, circumstances have conspired to up my prospective wedding date to January 1st."

"That will be more difficult. Why the change?" he remained grim.

"We are having twins. By March, this will be very visible."

"That is ... unfortunate," he shook his head.

"You have no idea," and then a brainstorm. "And I am curious about resurrecting the Order of the Dragon ... the Societas Draconistarum." Technically that meant 'Society of the Dragonists' which was more appropriate than the literal Ordo Draconis.

"Precisely how do you plan to recreate a crusading Christian Order which was the purview of the Hungarian monarchs?" he didn't sound the least skeptical, just curious.

"I have billions of euros to fund such a thing," I winked. "Of far greater critical importance, I know where I can find the supernatural guidance and spiritual imperative for such an organization."

"You are going to produce a dragon?" his eyes grew larger even as he fought down his fear. Good man. He was adaptive. He'd need to be.

"I never said such a thing. That would make me sound crazy," I smiled broadly. "Besides, when I say 'dragon', you think 'devil' and that's way too pedestrian for where we are going."

"I am not a moral relativist."

"Neither am I. I'm out to save lives and nurture the drive in the human spirit to reach for freedom, love and liberty. As you might imagine, I'm pretty freaking outnumbered."

"I think you are crazy," he re-evaluated things.

"I just might be. In all honesty, you should back out now. Take your two compadres back to 25 East 39th Street (the Holy See's Permanent Observer Offices to the UN in NYC) and report 'Mission Failure'. You'll most likely live longer," I reasoned.

"I am not afraid to die," Sister Rafaela Sophia finally voiced an opinion.

"That's idiotic," I scoffed before the bishop could reprimand her for opening her mouth. "You should be."

"My soul is in God's hands," she set her jaw.

"Does he talk to you?" I countered.

"His message is clear."

"Not what I asked. I asked if he specifically directed you to toss your life fruitlessly away as an object lesson for the reckless, or careless?"

"This is uncalled for," Nicoló intervened.

"Nope. I bet you a phone call to my Brother to physically restore your bishopric that there are four people in this room who have murdered in cold blood," I kept eye contact with the nun, "and she's the odd one out. Right Juanita?"

"Yes, Ishara," Juanita slipped up. Her spycraft, like mine, needed work.

"You were in the military?" the bishop asked my bodyguard.

"Was? I am. Right now," she related. "I will be until I die."

That earned me looks from the three Catholics.

"She is loyal," Nicoló nodded slightly toward her, referring to Juanita's declaration.

"Huh? To me? Nope. She's loyal to my office - which we shan't get into right now. Back to you, Sister Rafaela Sophia. Are you out to be a martyr, or has some saint, or angel, given you a directive the other two seem to be unaware of which causes you to devalue your life?"

"I am devoted to the One True God, Christ, our Savior," and Juanita snorted, "and the Virgin Mary," the nun stated firmly. "I don't hear voices in my head."

"Juanita, that was rude. Apologize to our guest," I kept looking forward.

"No." Well ... fuck you too.

"Gun," I commanded. I held out my left hand.

"What? No. I will not give you one of my guns," she resisted.

"Juanita, give me your primary weapon, or I will ask Pamela to beat you up the moment I depart for the Great Hunt. After yesterday's stunt, you know she will," I threatened. Fair - I was not. She drew a Glock-20 and handed it to me. I went through the routine - dropped the magazine then ejected the round before opening the door.

Oh look, there were four SD chicks outside, ready to escort my visitors downstairs. I didn't even need to waste a phone call. It wasn't like the conference room wasn't being monitored.

"Excuse me," I took a half step out the door then hurled all three items down the hall. Looking back at Juanita. "Go fetch."

"Fuck you," she snapped.

"And insulting her faith was as degrading to both her faith and her as me doing this to you is degrading to you right now," I lectured her. "It is important to her, therefore it is important to me because she is my guest in the same way it is important to me that I let my bodyguard do her job without being a total asshole all the time. Now go get your God-damn weapon," I barked. Off she went. I left the door open.

"Now Sister Rafaela Sophia, the point of all this is:

~

I don't give a crap if you are willing to die for God. In fact, that makes you less than worthless to me and the team. I want to know if you are willing to put other motherfuckers in the ground so that Bishop Nicoló, or Mathias, might get to keep doing their jobs."

"Murder is a sin," she declared.

"Go home," I sighed while shaking my head.

"She answers to me, the Church and God, not you, Mr. Nyilas," the bishop stepped forward.

"Then you can go home too," I shrugged. "I'm not asking for remorseless killers. I'm asking for people willing to kill to get the hard work done and best of all, for people who know the difference."

"Everyone on JIKIT is a professional soldier, or killer?" he asked.

"No, but the ones who aren't don't carry guns and know to get down when things get funky," I bantered.

"I vouch for her," he insisted. Juanita came running back into the room.

"Cool beans. I don't know you either."

"You apparently know my service history," he volleyed.

"Yeah. Ten years a foreigner in the service of France, then you went straight into a university which turns out Jesuits," I riposted.

"What turned your life around?" he evaded. That was okay. I'd gotten what I wanted. I was willing to bet he had read every bit of public information about me and it was rumored the heavy Catholic membership in the FBI had its benefits to the Church as well. Not so much as to give them insight into JIKIT, but ...

"Someone risked their life for me. It's been pretty much downhill from there," I confessed. It was the truth. After Katrina gave me the life line on Day Two, it had all spiraled to the revelation of my heritage, Dad's death, Summer Camp, the Hamptons, Romania and Aya's kidnapping.

"A person - a soldier - died saving my life," the bishop empathized. "Her story is similar. She seeks redemption. She is not suicidal. I am staking both our lives on it."

Did he mean him and Mathias, or him and me? I wasn't certain. Still, it was good enough for now. I'd gotten a look at their emotional make up, even the relatively quiet Swiss.

"Very well," I agreed. "I have to go see the President about my new job description. I'll catch up with you at your car." To the SD team leader, "Take them to the garage. I will join the group of you very soon."

"Yes Ishara," she nodded. I exited the room, Juanita in tow. Two SD entered. I was gone before the Papal team left. Upstairs we went, with one last chore to discharge. I had to check on Ms. French to be absolutely freaking sure it was Shawnee - because anyone else would spell disaster.