Episode 26
6 . 30 P.M.
BOMBARDIER LEAR JET- 85
The Pope looked on as the Charmenlengo took out the small voice recorder from his pocket and was turning it over in his palms.
âWait, you recorded my confession? How could you Francescoâ, the Pope asked, a shocked expression on his face.
âNo, not Francescoâ, he said and pulled off the rubbery mask and make-up. He also removed the voice distorter.
âGiovanni Lorenzo!â He shouted and almost fainted, he least expected this.
âYes of course, itâs me. Anyway, it wonât matter that much. You would be dead by the time it gets to the publicâ, he sneered.
âYou! I trusted you with my life.Come mai(How could you?)â He exasperated.
âNever mind, change is coming and I am the new instrument of change. Itâs what the church has been waiting for, a belief with reasonâ.
âItâs not possible, you cannot overthrow the church. The Curia . . . Oh my God!â
âDonât worry about them, and be mindful of terms. Revolution and not a coup, a new order, transformation . . . I can see it comingâ.
âYouâre a lunatic, Giovanni. Stop it and come to your senses. You should confess this blasphemyâ.
He pocketed the recorder and pulled out a revolver from the pocket of his black cassock. He dipped his hand in the other pocket and got out a silencer.
The Supreme Pontiff was sweating profusely. He clutched his rosary tightly.
He brought his face close to him.
âThatâs exactly what I want. I want to see you shiver with fear. I want you to know what horror feels likeâ. He stuck the gun on his neck, tracing it along its length.
âYour hunger for power would lead you to doom, Giovanni. Letâs settle this like brothers. I mean, Iâve always loved you as one and held you in high regard. How could you possibly do this?â
He burst out laughing. âOh, now weâre brothers? Itâs been exactly twenty-five years now, fatherâ, he said, playing the the recorded Popeâs confession over and over again, âbut Iâve been finally been opportune by divine providence to get my revenge. I wonât call it a sin; after all the Bible said, âAn eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Can you imagine seeing you, a wicked a
heartless man, sitting on the Papal throne, worshiping on the altar and being revered by all and sundry? The pain of it, the death of the first true love I ever known and all whatnot, and you were ever there in Rome, climbing through the echelons of power and enjoying all the glory and attention while your past toils behind. Right now, youâve lost everything; the Vatican and maybe even your life . . .everythingâ.
âBut what have I not done for you, Giovanni. I took you like my own brother. I showered you with love, gave you power and you are the youngest President of the monetary administrations of the Holy See. You know how the Roman Curia has been on my neck for that but I persevered. All this was not enough for you and this is what you pay back withâ.
He rose again and began fixing the silencer on the nozzle of the gun.
Papa Georgia had prepared for this and hopefully the flight attendant had done as he was instructed. The pistol was carefully hidden in an incision made in the leather inside of the first class jet, it was hidden just below the seat. Thankfully, he was buying his pretense of helplessness. He just hoped that his military skill had not wavered a bit after all these years. Then the moment came.
âTu traditore della Santa Madre Chiesa!(You traitor of the Holy Mother church!)â He shouted.
Giovanni turned quickly and was surprised. A gun was pointing at him. He recovered quickly and with expertise.
It all happened in a flash and a loud shot exploded; it reverberated in the plane . . .
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