Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2) (32 page)

Chapter 83

Enrique
:  horns of the altar

“A son can bear with equanimity the loss of his father; but the loss of his inheritance may drive him to despair.”

– Niccolo Machiavelli

The
Camerlengo
found him kneeling in prayer in the private chapel attached to the Papal chambers.  “Your Holiness?  The Honcho is here to see you.”

The Supreme Pontiff opened his eyes and climbed to his feet, a look of mild surprise on his face.  “Already?  Very well.  Show him into Our audience room.”

“He's already there,.Holiness.”

“I
see
.”  He threw the man a sharp look, and one of the corners of the Pope's mouth quirked in annoyance. But it was only to be expected, given the obvious reason for a midnight visitation.  Jeffrey must be too agitated to be kept waiting.

After adjusting the hang of his robes, he swept into the audience chamber like a ship under sail.  As the haggard-looking figure rose from a chair he bypassed the papal throne and came to stand beside him.  “Greetings, Excellency.”

The Honcho eyed him as they shook hands.  “You don't look very surprised to see me.”

“Oh, come now, Excellency,” he said, sinking onto a seat beside Jeffrey's.  “We both have known this day was coming.  Warriors love war more than peace.”

Jeffrey collapsed into his chair and ran fingers through his hair.  “I'm afraid I counted on their loyalty to slow them down.”

“I'm sure they still consider themselves to be loyal, but to the Empire, not to the current Honcho.”

“Yes...but to whom are
you
loyal, Holiness?”

“I am loyal to God and the Church, Excellency.  But I'm sure you know the Church has always supported the established secular authority, and does not look with favor upon violent attempts to change it.”

“Glad to hear it.  So you'll help me?”

As usual, he bypasses preambles and jumps straight to the hard questions.
“You place us in an awkward position, Excellency.  You
are
the rightful leader, to be sure.  But the Church is not an army, or at least not one fit to take on actual militia.”

Jeffrey gazed into his hands.  “True.  But I know you must have channels of communication to some of the less senior officers.”  He raised his head and caught Enrique's glance.  “I know from personal experience that you have a keen eye for a rising star.”

He nodded. “From Our time as a cardinal, We understand stalled ambitions quite well, Excellency.  We believe that.....yes?”

Cardinal Mendoza had opened the door at the rear of the audience chamber.  “Commander Jiminez is here to see you, Holiness.”

Jeffrey sagged in his chair.  “Game over,” he muttered.

Enrique was certain he did
not
roll his eyes.  “Let him wait for another five minutes, and then show him in.”  He turned to the Honcho and pointed behind the throne  “Through that door, Excellency.  “We'll talk soon.”

Warily, Jeffrey went to the door and opened it.  Brother Marcus pulled him in across the threshold and shut it again with a click.

Chapter 84

Jeffrey
: cat and mouse

“History is a set of lies agreed upon.”

– Napoleon Bonaparte

He was ready to panic when the monk grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the door and shut it behind them. 
But why hide me?  If he was going to betray me, why not just hand me over?
  Maybe the Pontiff was just not in a hurry.  “Who are you?”

“I am brother Marcus, Excellency.  Please come this way.”

Jeffrey followed the man down a dark and narrow corridor that he realized must be hidden in the wall of the audience chamber.  Did it completely surround the room – except for the 'public' doorway?

A short way down the dim hall brother Marcus halted and flipped open a panel revealing a window at head height smaller than his palm.  “You can watch through this, Excellency.  Because of the difference in light levels, no one will see your eyes.”  He withdrew a slim box about a cubit long from an inner pocket.  It looked like something you might use to carry a piccolo or a telescope.  “You'll be able to hear what they say, too.  A system of one-way baffles blocks them from hearing us, unless you really shout.”

He opened the case and extracted a tube a little thicker than a cigar and a foot long.  Flipping open another little door revealed another window, with a hole below it. He slipped one end of the tube into this hole.  This window was more complicated than Jeffrey's, however.  The window and its hole were mounted in a frame that let Brother Marcus slide them up and down.  He nudged them until he appeared satisfied.

Curious, Jeffrey leaned forward for a better look.  When he saw the crosshairs neatly painted on the inside of the window, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.  “Would you really kill Commander Jiminez?” he whispered.

Brother Marcus glanced at him.  “I would prefer not to attract attention,” he said.  “But His Holiness prefers to be ready in case things do not go well.”

Are you also ready to use the swizzle gun on me, instead?

He very carefully did
not
ask that question out loud.  Instead, he put his eyes to his own window. 

The Pope rose from the seat and made his way to the Papal throne.  A minute later Jeffrey heard the sound of a door opening and Commander Hector Jiminez strode into the chamber.  The man looked around, then came forward and kissed the ring on the hand the Pope extended, then made his way to the same seat Jeffrey had been in a few minutes before. 

Jeffrey began to sweat.  Would the man notice the chair was already warm?

“Greetings, Commander.  To what do We owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Jeffrey wanted to shake his head in admiration.  Ricky was a cool one.  To see and hear him, you'd never know he had been speaking with a hunted man minutes before.  He made a mental note to
never
play poker with the Pontiff if he managed to survive this coup attempt.

“I'm looking for Jeffrey Martinez, Your Holiness.”

“You mean, the Honcho.  Why would he be hard to find?”

“I mean exactly what I said.  We've decided it's time for a change in leadership.  He managed to flee headquarters before we could take him into custody.”

Before you could 'accidentally' kill me, you mean.
  Behind the wall, Jeffrey's fists clenched, and unclenched, hungry for a neck.

Them Pontiff frowned..  “We must say We are surprised at this development.  Don't all officers and men in the Lone Star Army swear an oath of loyalty to the man you are now...hunting?”

Jeffrey's eyes narrowed. 
Yes,
he thought. 
You must
say
you are surprised.

Jiminez cleared his throat.  “We swear loyalty to the Empire, first and foremost.  The Honcho is, among other things, a symbol of that empire.  And symbols can be changed.”

“Indeed they can. We imagine there are those who are not entirely comfortable with the idea of the Lone Star becoming merely one among a constellation.”  He took a sip from a goblet.  “We imagine that some are already speaking of repudiating the accord with Rado.”

Jiminez looked ready to spit. “Jeffrey betrayed his father's memory.  He should have put that bitch Kristana in chains, instead of abjectly signing a
treaty
with her!”

His Holiness nodded.  “It can be argued that he might have succeeded, assuming he had better luck with her wizards than his much more experienced father and Commander Brutus managed.  We have heard they proved surprisingly capable in the crisis.”

  “All wizards should be put to the sword!” Jiminez growled.  “Abominations, the lot of them.  But I'm not here to discuss them.”

“Of course not, Commander.  We must confess, however to be somewhat at a loss.  Why then are you here?  Surely your time would be better spent tracking down those who oppose your proposed change in leadership.”

Jiminez eyed him.  “Some have suggested,” he said, “that he might come to you seeking sanctuary, Holiness.”

Standing at the spy hole in the darkness of the corridor, Jeffrey heard a clicking as the monk beside him withdrew something from a pocket of his robe. 
Bullets, probably lead balls. 
But killing Jiminez would only attract more attention!

The Pope leaned forward and took his chin between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.  “That would place Us in an untenable position,” he said solemnly.  “It is hard to see how any help could be offered without betraying the Empire.”

Help to whom? You sly devil.
  The Pontiff was putting on a good show all right.  But for whom?  Jiminez, Jeffrey...or both of them?

The Commander shifted in his chair.  From the ring-kiss earlier, Jeffrey presumed the man was a faithful Catholic, and therefore reluctant to accuse the Pontiff of sheltering an enemy of the State.  He hoped so; that reluctance might allow the man to leave this chamber alive.

“May I presume, Holiness, that if Jeffrey comes to you that we will be informed?  I realize we can't expect you to take him into custody for us, but we would appreciate an opportunity to intercept him.”

His Holiness regarded him.  “I can assure you, Commander,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, “that if the Honcho comes to Us, you
will
be informed of his presence here.  We would certainly not want this
unstable situation
to persist any longer than necessary.”

“Glad you understand, Holiness.  We shall await word.”  Jiminez stood up.  “I need  to go supervise the search efforts.”

“Go in peace, Commander,” said the Pope, making the sign of the Cross.  “We hope this is all over as soon as possible.”

Jiminez grunted.  “One way or the other, it will be.” 

Chapter 85

Katerina: lioness in repose

She sipped mint julep by the lake and watched them come with eyes that did not blink.  The Moon was full tonight.  Its silver rays revealed the men – their torches seemed redundant.  As she often did these days and nights, Katerina Martinez toyed with her jeweled dagger, then slipped it back into the sheath low on her leg.  No.  She was no Juliet, to mourn her love with premature demise. 

At first they went inside the house, and she nodded to herself.  Her candle had burned down; the meager light that would have marked her presence now a curl of smoke.  Yet even without its beacon, they'd find her here beside the lake.  She had not left the grounds in several months.

At last, while horses whinnied, a line of light extruded from the house. 
Finally.
She hoped they had been gentle with Esmeralda.

They did not hurry, nor did she expect it.  She took another sip of her bourbon and mint. 
Come closer,
she thought.  Yes, come closer, and s
ee how far I can spit.

But they drew up short of her range.  Their leader was a Commander; she could make out his insignia now. 
Vaco.

He hesitated.  “My Lady Honchessa...”

“Don't.”  She regarded him.  “That title now belongs to the woman my son Jeffrey takes to be his wife.”

“As you wish.  Have you --”

“-- seen my son?  No, sir, I have not.  Are you going to stand there and pretend you have not had your men watching my house for days...even before you made your cowardly betrayal?”

He stiffened, and she wondered idly if she was trying to goad him into doing what her dagger might yet do.

“We both know my watchers might have been eluded, Lady.  As a citizen of the Empire, it is your duty to assist us.”

She laughed, a bit louder than she intended, probably from the alcohol that fortified her.  “
You
speak to me of duty?  You, who have neither kept to your oath, nor fetched my late husband's remains?”

His eyes narrowed.  “My oath is to the Empire.  When leaders forget its destiny, when steersmen drift off course, will not the loyal sailors seize the wheel, and make correction?”

“A pretty speech, for an Army man.  But you mix metaphors.”  She raised her glass again.  “What some call correction, others name it truly as mutiny, were Texas a ship.”

He shrugged.  “This is not a debate, Lady, nor you a judge.  History will someday have its say.  Meanwhile, we proceed.”

She yawned indifference.  “Proceed to do...what?  Am I to be a martyr or a hostage?  I'll warn you that I do not give a
shit
.  There is nothing you can wring from me to further your agenda.  Do your worst.  That is, if you have not done it already by making your Honcho  a hunted man.”

“We both know it's only a matter of time before we have him.”

“Do we now?  If that's so, then why waste time with me?  Do you come to gloat?  Or I am just a loose end that needs...trimming?”

He frowned at that, and eyed her glass.  “I'll let that pass, because you've obviously been drowning your sorrows.  But whatever you might think of me, you can't think a Texas man would ever harm a lady.”

Her eyebrows lifted.  “That's not what Jeffrey said about Brutus.”  Her eyes bored into his.  “Don't try to tell me he wasn't one of you, Vaco.”  She sipped again.  “If he hadn't perished in the invasion of Denver, I'm sure Commander Glock would be the one speaking to me of my
duty
.”

Commander Vaco turned away for a moment.  When he faced her again, he had himself under control.  “Here is what happens next,” he said.  “You will remain here under guard until your son is apprehended.”

“You mean, murdered.  Or will you hold a mock trial first?”

“When we select the new Honcho....”

“...when you rebels pick your designated usurper...”

“...you will vacate the house.  We will find somewhere to relocate you, and you will live out the remainder of your life in relative comfort, providing you refrain from attempting to meddle in affairs of state.”

“You bribe me with a pension?  What a
gentleman
.”  The venom dripping from the word could have eaten holes in the table.  “Begone.  Off with your dogs to chase the noble fox.”