VI
VI
Cologne, an old university city, was surprisingly sophisticated for Germanics, which resembled a barbaric military nation. Because it was an inhabited city, places existed to fulfill people's desires. There weren't too many people who could spend their holidays solely reading and engaging in music appreciation.
The Black Forest was said to be a shop that represented the lower echelons of Cologne's population. Its sign read: "beer hall," but half the women hanging around the hall were professionals. Bedrooms were provided on the second floor for them to use for business, and the biggest casino in the city was in the shop's basement.
As soon as Father Lentz took one step into the shop, he wrinkled his nose. "This is hellish." The fake policemen who followed him had shed their uniforms and were wearing plain clothes. Unwilling to hide their displeasure, their faces silently reiterated Lentz's assessment. "To patronize a disgusting place like this in a traditional university city like Cologne of all places. Curse you! We were created to burn down and purify Sodoms like this," Lentz said angrily.
Having not felt entirely moved by the fortified soldier's pious speech, Antonio shrugged. "The owner of this shop is a friend I can trust. I got him to guard the list in the underground vault here, because it's probably the safest place in Cologne."
Antonio led Lentz, the Neue Vatican followers, and the silver-haired priest—who continued to endure the prodding of his capturers' guns. The devotees had wanted to kill Abel, but Lentz had stopped them.
"If he's from AX, he should have a lot of intelligence about Rome. Later, I'll get you to tell me all about how much they know about us, Father Nightroad," Lentz had said.
Abel bit his lip and didn't respond. His weapon had been taken away, and he was surrounded by strong enemies. Despite the fact that he was considered to be the highest talent in the Vatican, he couldn't come up with words in such a dire situation.
"The owner says he'll see you right away," Lentz said.
A stout middle-aged man who called himself the director walked out of the shop. From beneath heavy eyelids that were reminiscent of a pig's, he peered intensely at Antonio. "The owner jumped for joy when he heard you were here, Antonio. He'll spoil you plenty. Use the inside stairs." The director laughed unpleasantly and winked at Lentz. "Thank you for bringing Antonio. He hasn't responded to the owner's invitations at all. You'll probably get a lot of money."
"Yeah, I expect to get a lot of thanks," Lentz replied without looking directly at the director's face. He probably felt as though his faithful heart had been desecrated simply by opening his mouth. Were he more open-minded, he would have noticed that Antonio didn't try to make eye contact with the man, or the glimmer of understanding that was apparent in Abel's eyes as he was being dragged along.
The owner's room was the first room inside the underground casino. Beyond the two-way mirror that opened without a sound was a large but simply furnished office. Except for the twenty-plus men standing throughout the room holding handguns, it resembled the president's office at any big corporation.
"Welcome, Antonio." Seated at a desk the size of a bed was a large man whose face appeared as though it had been chiseled with a lump of rock. As he glared at Antonio's slender face, his thick lips spread into a smile. "It's been a long time. I'm very glad to meet you at last."
"Me too, Papa Zeppu," Antonio replied, scratching his head as if he were slightly embarrassed. "It's been a long time—about a month since the Eva incident?"
"Yeah. On the night before that woman left here, you—" said Papa Zeppu.
"I'm very sorry, but I'd prefer it if the two of you rekindled your friendship later," said Lentz as he wedged in between the two old friends. He folded his arms, showing no sign of amiability, and jutted out his jaw. "First, I'll get what I came for. I can't remain calm in a place like this. I'll take the list in the vault and say goodbye at once."
"List, is it?" said Papa Zeppu raising his thick eyebrows.
Lentz leaned in toward the burly man. "It belongs to this prince. That list—you have it, right?"
"Hey, be careful how you talk, youngster," warned Papa Zeppu.
As if cowering in response to their boss' anger, the underlings behind Papa Zeppu shoved their hands into their pockets.
"What about the list?" asked Papa Zeppu.
"Are you going to pretend you don't know? It's of no use to a nobody like you," said Lentz, shaking his head disapprovingly, unlike Zeppu, who didn't flinch an eyebrow. "It belongs to us. Hand it over at once!"
"Listen, youngster . . ." Zeppu's hand reached toward the fortified soldier's collar. As soon as his fat fingers grabbed Lentz's necktie, the emperor of the underworld bared his nicotine-stained teeth and growled. "I don't know what this shitty kid's been putting into your head, but that list is my treasure. No matter what happens, I have no intention of handing it over. If you understand, disappear at—eek!"
Lentz tightly gripped the hand Zeppu had used to grab Lentz's necktie. Zeppu's bones made a nasty noise as they crumbled under Lentz's power, fortified by steroids and artificial protein.
"If you won't hand over the list, no matter what . . ." said Lentz as he crushed the screaming Zeppu's hand into powder and broke into a sadistic smile, "I'll take it by force!"
The gang members simultaneously pulled their handguns out of their pockets, prompting Lentz's devotees to raise their weapons. The room itself was large, but as gunfire flashed and blood began to spray, the space proved to be too small for the thirty people inside it. The devotees were overwhelmingly outnumbered, but they didn't back down—they kept pulling their triggers without hesitation, despite seeing their associates fall one by one.
"Damned pig! You should fall into hell!" shouted Lentz. After snarling in annoyance, Lentz lifted Zeppu's body over his head and energetically hurled the uncontrollably screaming large man at the gang members.
When the gang members broke their strong stance, the fortified soldier-priest jumped over the desk and seized the inner vault. Spotting a thick file past the door he'd ripped off with uncanny strength, Lentz's face glowed. "This?" he asked, knowing that what he'd found undoubtedly would make His Holiness Alfonso happy. "Good, I've retrieved the list. Withdraw!" Lentz shouted to his subordinates, who already had taken out a considerable number of the enemies. It had cost painful sacrifices, but their reward would be paid in full if they had the list.
"Wh-what is this?" Lentz's face hardened as his eyes scanned the open file. '"Walter Schumacher—Amalie, April twentieth, two thousand.' What is this?" It's not the list! Lentz thought in horror. What he had in his possession was a list, but it wasn't the register of comrades that Alfonso had ordered him to retrieve. This is a register of customers who frequent this filthy, satanic shop! "Why this? The list—where in the world is the list? D-damn, I see!"
Lentz understood the situation at last. Hurriedly surveying the room, he caught sight of two human shadows trying to sneak out of the room, away from the confusion. One of the two shadows—the silver-haired priest-—already had taken off his handcuffs and was holding his own percussion revolver that had fallen to the floor in the confusion.
"You! You planned this, Borgia!" Lentz bellowed before snatching a long sword from a suit of decorative armor standing in a corner of the room. Kicking the floor with a roar and activating his tuned leg strength, he took one step on the ceiling and jumped down like a wild beast directly in front of the young men who were about to escape. "I won't forgive you, Borgia. I won't let you escape alive!"
The silver-haired priest stood facing the oncoming fanatic, and was being pushed forward by Antonio, who cowered as usual. "I really understand how you feel—that you want to kill him—but..." said Abel with complete sympathy, "I can't leave him in your hands. And Father Lentz, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I arrest you red-handed for the crimes of obstructing enforcement of holy duty and preparing and assembling dangerous weapons. I advise you to surrender quietly."
"Don't be stupid!" yelled Lentz. With an ear-splitting gust, the unsheathed sword revolved in the air. It was possible to instantly kill a priest or two possessing a fortified soldier's speed, but if Lentz were a normal person, the immense sword he had raised would have split the air and struck the top of Abel's head.
Blue and white sparks scattered to the sound of a high-pitched metallic screeching. The bullet Abel had fired the moment the sword had swung stopped the blade, in spite of the fact that the blade exceeded the speed of sound. Miraculously, its orbit was ruined, and the most damage it did was gouge a deep crack in the floor.
"Shahhh!" Lentz howled. Taking advantage of the sword rebounding off the floor, he swung it up diagonally, causing a few of the priest’s unruly silver hairs to dance in the wind. Meanwhile, Abel cocked his gun while sliding backward.
"Just what I'd expect from an agent — but naive!" said Lentz.
The first attack had been a trap from the outset. Lentz didn't brandish the sword up diagonally but drew its hilt to his side. Using the power of his twisting hips, he brutally thrust the sword, hurling it toward the priest's face. "Perish in the name of God, you who ally with my enemies. I'll skewer you, agent!" yelled Lentz.
Prayer collided with prayer.
"God, please protect me. It's no use, Father Lentz," said Abel who didn't avoid the shining blade thrust at him. Instead, he revolved in a large arc and kicked his foot, striking the flat of the blade.
Lentz lost his balance. His hips drifted in front of the rest of his body, pulled by the weight of the sword, before he felt the cold sensation of the gun muzzle on his shoulder.
"God have pity. Amen," said Abel.
No matter how much godlike speed he boasted about, Lentz had no means to avoid this. Five bullets shot from point-blank range and ate through Lentz s shoulder, passing through to his back. Bleeding and screaming, the fortified soldier struck the floor.
"Damn you, Father!" yelled a devotee.
A few of the unharmed devotees could’ve pointed their guns toward Abel, but the moment was gone.
"All of you there, don't move!" said a voice.
Suddenly, about ten priests carrying guns kicked down the door and rushed in.
***
"So, where was that list being safeguarded in the end?" asked Professor as he shrugged off the grumbling coming from Abel, who stood beside him in the hall to the chief's office. "If it wasn't in that vault, where was it hidden?"
"That's a joke," said Abel, making a face as if he'd chewed two or three bugs at once. A small bandage stuck to his cheek, he already had been mistaken for the enemy by Caterina's recovery team that had charged into the casino. It definitely had been unwise not to wear a cassock. Despite that, Abel had been able to keep Antonio safe and also secure the Neue Vatican devotees, from Lentz on down. Maybe he should look past being slightly beaten up. "Antonio—I mean, Prince Borgia—burned the list long ago because he memorized all its contents. Really, he made a fool out of me until the end," said Abel.
"That's a neat trick. That way, the cardinals won't be able to treat him negligently hereafter," said Professor as he stroked his long chin and shook his head as if very impressed. If he'd left the list as it was, it would be the end if it were confiscated. However, it would be safe if he had transferred it to the inside of his own head, and he could get VIP treatment from Rome for however long. Yes, it's a good trick, just what I'd expect from one called the genius of Cologne University."
"Eh? He's called that?" asked Abel.
"What, you didn't know?" asked Professor. As soon as he removed his unlit pipe from his mouth, Professor raised his eyebrows. "Prince Antonio Borgia of Valencia is a genius who earned seven doctorates by the age of twenty-three—enough for my university to use him as a political science department professor."
"Him?" asked Abel, who felt the man didn't match his outward appearance. I thought he was merely—no, in a certain sense, less than—a frivolous youth. Still, it wouldn't be advisable to have anything to do with him after this; after we safely arrive in Rome, I won't see him anymore. I don't think I want to see him. "Yeah, now that you mention it, Professor, how did your work go in Hispania? Weren't you trying to expose a slave trade syndicate?"
"It was an extremely boring assignment. The matter took so much time, and it wasn't interesting at all," Professor said, tightening his face as if to snidely say, "Thanks for asking." "I used a simple trick, making it possible to analyze the matter in ten minutes with very rudimentary logic. But it's already July, right? The season completely overlapped with end-of-year exams. That was terrible—making up exam questions, grading reports ... I didn't sleep for three days."
With the pipe still stuck between his lips, Professor swallowed a genuine yawn. In accordance with his name, the agent "Professor" was, in fact, a regular professor at Rome University, and he held lectures in the departments of literature and science.
"Really, I can't stand it! If it's going to be like this, it would be more relaxing to take on more slave dealers. Leaving aside that they sell people, they don't sell collections of sample answers before the exams, and they don't submit classical poetry reports on how to boil delicious pasta," said Professor. "I envy you getting to escort that genius Antonio Borgia, Nightroad! No doubt you enjoyed refined and scholarly conversations?"
Abel stared in silence, thinking to himself, Well, fine. I'll never see that dandy again. Right about now, he's probably loafing as much as he likes on his way home. I don't mind, as long as he's happy someplace far away.
With an intense look on his face, Abel knocked on the door of the chief's office. "It's Abel Nightroad. You sent for me."
"Please come in," answered Caterina.
After hearing his superior's voice, Abel opened the door. On the other side of the office, the most beautiful cardinal in the world was smiling mischievously. "Ah, you've gotten a lot better looking, Father Nightroad. Your business trip to Cologne seems to have been a big deal," said Caterina.
"Yes, in all kinds of ways," Abel replied, twisting his lips and gently scratching his head. "The most troublesome wasn't the bunch from Neue Vatican—it was the person I'd been escorting. I had a really hard time. Caterina, I'm begging you—next time you want me to transport hazardous materials, please tell me so frankly."
"By 'hazardous materials,' do you mean Prince Borgia? According to the prince's story, you were a very lively combo. Isn't that so? Let's see, 'sole friend,' was it?" asked Caterina.
"Sole friend?" asked Abel. The priest appeared as though he'd learned the end of the world was near. "Who said such a pleasant thing in their sleep? In the first place, he and I—"
"We're battle friends who shared life and death, right, Abel?" interrupted Antonio in a frivolous voice from the sofa, which Abel had thought was empty.
Abel refocused his eyeballs, which were about to burst through his glasses, toward the sofa, and completely froze.
"You already were acquainted with Father Nightroad. Let me introduce you to Professor," said Caterina. While gazing happily at the stunned Abel, Caterina gestured toward the other visitor sitting on the sofa in front of the desk. "This is a new priest who will be in service at the Vatican from this day forward."
"I'm Antonio Borgia. Pleased to meet you, my elder," said Antonio, beaming. The young man stood up from the sofa, extending his hand.