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Micah met me at the doorway and frisked me. I wasn't carrying anything but a pound of bacon for VR. After distributing the breakfasts to the Baptists, I asked to distribute the breakfasts to the ambassadors.
"I'd like to see how they're doin', Micah."
"Well...They don't seem to be doing well, Red. But it's nothing that we've done. Most of them seem to have the shakes and some of them are seeing things. And they keep complaining about the food. I mean, what are Oysters Rockefeller and Romanie Conti?"
"Just the diplomat's equivalent to ham and eggs. Let me see what can be done. I'd like to feed the doggie as well."
"You're welcome to that mutt. He's been nothing but a pill the entire time. Always underfoot, ruining people's shoes, except when he disappears every once and a while."
"Probably just finding a place for leftover dinners. Or maybe he doesn't like to be around the rest of the ambassadors, either. You can't really blame him."
"I don't want to blame him, I just want to shoot him. But my Christian charity prevents that. Though not by much."
"So can I feed the ambassadors?"
"Have at it."
As I expected, there were a lot of shakes and a couple of D.T.s on the ambassador row. Most ambassadors are alkies to start with, it goes with the territory. Obviously Micah hadn't known about that feature of diplomacy, and hadn't added 2 + 2. I would call in a special Everclear prescription as soon as I could figure out how to smuggle it in.
The Papal representative didn't seem to have a problem, even though he must have been 90. Something about his carriage made think I wouldn't want to get on his bad side, even at his age.
Noting the red stripe of his rank, I asked him how things were going.
"Not so good, lika my Englessh."
"What's your name?"
"Monsegnior Camillo."
Camillo? Where had I heard that name before. Back when I was a kid... Hmmm.... Then it hit me! Uncle Jack! He had talked about a young parish priest named Camillo, back when he was a Looey during the occupation of Italy right at the end of WWII. He had gotten into an argument with the priest and had gotten his clock cleaned. It was the only time he had ever admitted to getting his clock cleaned...That was in the northern end of Italy, on the Po river...
"Padre, did you ever have a parish on the Po river?"
"Yes, for many years, before I became a Monsegnior. Whya do you ask?"
"I think you had some fisticuffs with a American Lieutenant, during the occupation, did you not?"
He grinned. "He hada fasta tongue, anda loose zipper. I hada to look after the women there. It is the duty of a parish priest."
Yep, that was Uncle Jack, alright. "The Lieutenant you had fisticuffs with was my uncle. He told us kids the story when we were growing up. Cleaned up a little, of course. Padre, if I can clear it with our captors, will you hear my confession?"
"Of coursa, my son."
I walked back to Micah.
"Micah, can I ask a favor of you?"
"Depends. What is it."
'I'm not of your faith. Can you give me and the old priest a quiet corner for confession? Confessions, as you know need to be private."
"Hmm.... I don't trust you, but that priest must be 90. I doubt he could do anything at his age...OK. Go find yourself a corner. but don't take too long."
"Thanks. Micah, for the professional courtesy. I'll limit my sins to a greatest hits collection."
I went back to Monsegnior Camillo.
"I cleared it with Micah. Let's go find a quiet corner."
We did so.
I started with a slight variant of the opening line. "Forgive me father, for I am not Catholic."
That got a jump out of the padre. "Then whya did you aska for a confession."
"It was the only way I could talk privately with you. I need you help to get these ambassadors out of here."
" I am willing to help, but I don't know where to lead them to or how to avoid them blowing up the building during the escape."
" I will take care of the building situation, and I'll get the doggie to tell you where the exits are."
"My son, how cana doggie tella me where the exits are?"
"He can talk." I raised my hand. "He is the result of some experiments a few years ago. He is as smart as you or I and can talk and listen. He's my secret weapon. He's been wandering around, getting the lay of the land. I'll have him nuzzle you ear and whisper the route to you. Capeesh?"
"Capeesh."
"The message to start the exit will be my singing Ave Marie. Good enough?"
"Good enough, my son. What will you be doing?"
"Why, I'll be discussing religion with Micah over a beer." And I winked at him. "Now for my penance?"
"You penance is to sing two staves of Ave Marie, when Christ needs you to do so. Go with God, my son."
We headed back to the rest of the ambassadors....
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