IV

IV

 

"How about some tea, you two?" asked Havel. "Th-th-thank you, Vaclav," Alessandro  replied, smiling happily as he took the cup, which gave off a strong aroma.

Meanwhile, Professor, who'd been silently glaring at a sheaf of documents with a red pen in one hand for a while, didn't look up.

"How about it, William?" asked Havel.

"Hmm? Yeah, thanks," answered Professor, quickly grabbing the piping hot cup. He'd been fervently grading university papers ever since arriving at the cheap hotel in the squalid outskirts of town.

"Oh dear, you never change, William," Havel said. Showing no signs that his feelings had been hurt, Havel smiled wryly, shaking his head at the boy. "He's been like this for a long time. Please don't mind him."

"H-h-have you known each other long?" asked Alessandro as he cocked his head slightly, carefully letting the contents of his cup cool. "You seem to g-get along v-very well."

"Yes. When the three of us—William, Abel, and I—first met... well, it's nearly ten years ago now. We met when AX didn't yet exist," said Havel, wearing a distant expression. "William, Abel, and Kate are still my acquaintances."

"Wh-why do y-you work for my sister?" inquired Alessandro.

"Originally, I was with the Bureau of Inquisition, but my religious opinions clashed with my superiors at that time. There, I was picked up amid all kinds of unsavory things happening, but at the time, your sister had entered the world of the church. Although I'm unworthy, I've worked for her since that time," Havel explained.

A brash voice suddenly interrupted: "What do you mean, 'unworthy'? You're the highest talent in AX," Professor said, wearing a devious smile.

"Hey, William. Have you finished grading yet?" asked Havel.

"No, there's still half to go. Oh dear, when it conies to students lately ... Anyway, you shouldn't be fooled, Your Holiness. Vaclav here is the strongest and highest agent in AX. He's the person your sister relies upon the most," Professor replied.

Slightly embarrassed, Havel said, "William, please stop telling lies. I'm really not—"

"It's offensive to be too modest, Know Faith," Professor interjected as he lazily gnawed on his pipe. "The remote eastern regions like Bohemia and Istavan have all kinds of political troubles and, traditionally, a great amount of disorder. Aren't you always the one that Her Eminence decides to send to address the turbulence there?"

"That's simply because I was born near here," replied Havel.

"Yes, you were born in Brno . . . Now that you mention it, how did your work go? What happened with the missile stolen from Assisi?" asked Professor.

A month ago, an incident had occurred where an experimental missile had been stolen from the Vatican air force base in Assisi. According to the investigation bureau, the stolen missile had been taken to Brno, but the bureau didn't know where it had gone afterward. It was Havel who'd continued that investigation.

"A large missile ... I've heard a rumor that it was a city attack weapon, but . . . ahh, excuse me," Professor said, swallowing the crude yawn that swelled up while he was speaking. He shook his shoulders, trying to rattle himself from his state of drowsiness. "Is the air bad? I've gotten a little sleepy."

"Has your fatigue gotten worse? We've been very busy here lately," Havel said.

"I certainly have been busy, but I can't be this sleepy after noon. Am I getting old already?" asked Professor, whose eyelids were getting so heavy that they were visibly drooping. "This is strange. Sorry, Vaclav, but will you get me a cup of water? Please, Your Holiness?"

Professor noticed that the Pope was lying across the table, sleeping with a contented face. "Your Holiness, why? Oh no, Vaclav . . . something's wrong. This sleepiness . . ." Professor's voice trailed off. He tried to stand up, but that was as far as he got before collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Sorry, William," said Havel—the only man left standing. He threw away the contents of his own cup, put a gag over the sleeping boy's mouth, and bound the boy's hands and feet. Havel whispered into the boy's sleeping face: "I'm very sorry, Your Holiness. Bear with it for a little while. It won't be very long, so..."

Suddenly, a shaky voice called from behind: "V-Vaclav? Wh-what are you doing?" The silver-haired priest hesitantly raised a gun as Havel turned around to face him.