[Greg Anos]

After a quick chat with the Padre, I wandered back to the caucusing Baptists. No progress so far, but lots of noise....Showtime...

Suddenly, in the background...

"Youa lousy mutta, you crappa ona mya best shoes! While I'ma still ina them. I'lla fix your wagon."

A sneering bark, followed by the sound of something being throw and another bark.

"You no getta away from me. I go fixa your wagon!" Followed by the sounds of Monseigneur Camillo chasing after VR.

After that, there was a continuing hubbub for barks, bangs, and yells from the Padre. I heard several "Helpa me catcha this stupid mutta." Some "Youa lousy doga." and "Standa and fighta likea doga." Mixed in with lots of "I'lla fixa your wagon" and a steady flow of Italian that I couldn't understand, but I felt that he was not asking VR over for Tea.

Some heads popped up outta the huddle.

I shrugged. "VR has just hacked off the Padre. I don't figure a 90 year old is going to catch him. Besides, if he does, think about what a bad light it'll put the Vatican in."

Micah popped up his head. "I hope he catches him." And gestures for the others to huddle back up.

Perfect. I couldn't have hoped for better.


The bangs and barks and yells went on for around another 15 minutes, with an out-of -breath Padre dragging back to the diplomats.

"I'lla turn you into a hot doga, yet." he leans against one of the big vats in the brew room where everybody was staying.

I hurried over to the Padre.

"Are you OK? A man your age shouldn't be chasing after a doggie, no matter what the provocation."

" I'lla geta that doggie yeta." He then whispered, "I gotta all the guards tieda up. Mosta of them are still outa cold." He grinned, "I haven'ta hada this mucha fun since the old days with Mayor Peppone."

"You get the detonators?"

"Behinda the vat. I puta the resta of the C4 behinda another vat. Over therea." He hooked his thumb in the required direction. "Oh, and herea." He reached under his hassock and pulled out 3 Glocks. "You mighta finda these of usea."

"What, no Tommy Guns?"

Monseigneur Camillo chuckled. "Those werea the old days. Maybe you aska Micah for a couple, just for the olda times."

"I don't think Micah has a sense of humor, or any sense of the old times. These will do. You got the rags?"

"Backa with the detonators."

"Well, rest up. I've gotta go set some detonators."


I slipped one of the Glocks in my boot, and the other two in my waist band behind me. I pulled out my shirttail, which covered them up. Now it was time to start earning my pay, by setting the detonators.

This was the next tricky part, and I wasn't gonna delegate this to anyone else but me. With a quick look over at the huddle, which was still going strong, I started setting little pieces of C4, with a detonator each, on certain pipes, at certain angles, and then covering each detonator with a rag. I had to check the huddle after each setup but I got the last one done before the huddle broke up. I waited a few more minutes for my knees to stop knocking. You play with live detonators and C4 and think nothing of it. I was just glad my sphincters had held.


After I got settled down again, I wandered back over to the huddle.

"Any progress, Micah?"

Micah popped his head up. "What business is it of yours?"

"Just tryin' to help. Before you get too mad, could I offer a helpful suggestion?"

"And just what would that be?"

"Maybe y'all should take the matter up with the Lord with a prayer. It seems to me that if you're fussin' over a matter with the Lord, you need to let the Spirit move y'all for the final answer."

"Red, for an unwashed, heathen, scoundrel, you sure have some good ideas in your head. Have you ever thought about the ministry?"

"Not personally, but I do come from a long line of Baptist preachers on my mother's side."

"Why'd you go Catholic then?"

"Now Micah, y'all need to be worryin' about the Spirit movin' y'all, not my sins. Can I make one more suggestion."

"What?"

"Once you've given you prayer, maybe you might like to sing a few hymns. Help put you in the right mood for the occasion."

Micah just shook his head. "You shoulda been a Baptist preacher. That's a great idea."


So they start one of those endless Baptist prayer, asking for guidance. I timed it out at 9 minutes 14 seconds. At least they weren't singing Just as I Am. Not yet, anyhow. And I had the armament to make certain, not later, either.

After the Amen, I piped up, "Mind if I start the singing?"

"Sure, Red, why not?"

"Since y'all are Baptists, y'all won't mind if my singing isn't the highest calibre. The Good Book just says make a joyous noise."

"Get on with it."

"I'll start out with a good ole Catholic hymn called Ave Marie..." and I started singing.


They started going though the Baptist standard, which of course they had memorized. By the fifth one I caught VR out of the corner of my eye. I nodded slightly. He winked and nodded back, then jogged off.

I gave him two minutes, and then it was time for the first act of Henry the V.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "HALLELUJAH! THE LORD HAS SPOKEN!!!!"