Chapter.6 [we continue our story, after many, many months....]
Archbishop
Rupert Weakling sat in the Rome Hilton breakfast lounge. The Archbishop
was waiting to meet a certain Cardinal "X", whom Msgr.
Fabrizzi had
assured him would put "exquisite pressure" on the Supreme
Pontiff, so as not
to obstruct the persecution of Catholics loyal to Tradition.
Weakling had just finished a yogurt and was sipping an expresso coffee, when Fabrizzi approached him accompanied by a sinister looking, middle-aged man in a dark suit and sunglasses. 'Vaclav', he was told, would drive them both to a secret rendezvous with Cardinal "X" at a posh villa just outside Rome. Weakling, paid his bill (but left no tip) and lighting a cigarette strode off with the two men.
Weakling had just finished a yogurt and was sipping an expresso coffee, when Fabrizzi approached him accompanied by a sinister looking, middle-aged man in a dark suit and sunglasses. 'Vaclav', he was told, would drive them both to a secret rendezvous with Cardinal "X" at a posh villa just outside Rome. Weakling, paid his bill (but left no tip) and lighting a cigarette strode off with the two men.
The
Mercedes AMG S550 swerved through the congested streets of Rome, being driven expertly
by 'Vaclav'. It was obvious that such skill had been acquired by many
an occasion that required sudden getaways. 'Vaclav', Fabrizzi told
the Archbishop,
had moved to Rome to assist certain members of the Curia in facilitating
their points with doubting lesser clerics. In fact, Fabrizzi told
the very impressed Weakling, 'Vaclav' had acted as translator when
the same
Cardinal "X" had visited the schismatic self-styled
'Patriarch' of Moscow,
Alexei II.
Throughout
the drive, Weakling puffed on his cigarette through a filtered silver-tip.
The jeweled piece had been given to him at an ecumenical gathering
a few years ago by a lapsed priest who had decided to take up with a
band of animists from small-town USA. Weakling liked these kind of surprise
happenings; it made him a big hit with fellow bishops and a darling of
the media.
Weakling's
day-dreaming came to an abrubt end as 'Vaclav' screeched the car to
a halt at a red light. Generally, the Czech mobster would have driven through; however, today it would have been rather risky considering the ecclesiastic
cargo that he was transporting.
Seeing
the Vatican license plates, the Carabinieri obligingly signalled the limo
on, and 'Vaclav' quickly slammed his enormous foot to the
accelerator, thrusting
the car onto the main motorway heading out of town and north towards
Florence at 180 km per hour.
'Vaclav'
passed cars one after another as he charged towards his destination,
pressing the Mercedes to its limit. Inside, Fabrizzi was busy mixing
cocktails for himself and his episcopal friend. Suddenly, the car lurched
and Fabrizzi tilted violently sideways, bumping Weakling and spilling
his drink all over the Archbishop's exquisite cassock. For the occasion,
Weakling felt that a 'traditional' mode of raiment would add a touch
of irony, something that this foul toad felt appropriate, given his mission
to attack the Mass.
Cursing,
Weakling desperately began to brush off the offending gin, whilst Fabrizzi
offered rebuffed apologies. "You buffoon", finished the egomaniacal
Archbishop. The two men continued in silence, whilst 'Vaclav' tuned
into 'Radio Stalin', a local programme out of Minsk, White Russia, that
could be picked up on the car's super-sophisticated radio system. The remainder
of the journey consisted of poetry set to accordion music, along with
political commentary on the glories of Marxist atheism.
Suddenly,
'Vaclav' pulled off the motorway and began taking the car up a long
and winding road; turning left, 'Vaclav' continued on another two or so miles,
when in the distance the three men could see a beautiful villa perfectly
set in the Italian countryside. As they neared, they could see heavily
armed guards at the locked entrance. After a few words in Russian from
'Vaclav', the electronically controlled gate was opened and the Mercedes
elegantly stopped a few feet before the oak double-fronted door.
Staff
opened the rear car doors, and out got Weakling and Fabrizzi.
Weakling barely
had time to adjust his cassock, when coming out to greet them from the
Roman Curia were no less then Cardinals....... !!! "Oh my",
gasped an astounded
Weakling, nearly loosing his breath at the sight of Cardinal "X" strolling
towards him.
to
be continued
Your "so called" post is filled with weasel words. The Patriarch of Moscow is in schism but he is not "self styled" in the way Pope Michael of Kansas is "self styled".
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