SUMMARY: The Pope receives a vision that includes the names of four men: a U.S. Senator, a covert military intelligence agent, a priest from a small parish, and the head of the Italian mafia. These men form an alliance to eliminate the drug cartels of the world to save the children of the future. against the backdrop of political power struggle.

EXCERPT:

 

CHAPTER 1

VATICAN CITY

Pope Francis lithely entered into the small chapel next to his private quarters. The dark chapel was dimly lit by a row of flickering votive candles that cast a soothing splay of shadows across the ancient altar. The Pope knelt his thin, angular body before it; his white cassock cascaded across the red, soft cushion.  He gently entwined the ebony rosary beads between his fingers, crossed himself in the supplicant tradition, and kissed the crucifix as he closed his eyes and began to recite out-loud the Five Holy Mysteries of the Rosary.

 His nightly reverie, before bed, calmed him and connected his soul to the sublime obedience of God. During these moments of prayer, he put the chaos of his Office into perspective: the business of running the Vatican, the spiritual responsibility of guiding over one-billion Catholics in the area of faith and morals. This was his time to commune with his own spirituality, to harmonize his soul with the peace of his Father in Heaven.

 He rolled the rosary beads, one by one, through his fingers as he chanted the Ave Maria. His voice rose into a cadence of a Gregorian chant, the beauty of the alliterated ancient Latin echoed through the chapel like a spiritual sonnet.

 As he prayed, a soft, almost imperceptible light began to invade the small shadowy chapel. Oblivious, he continued his chanting recital of the rosary until the light brightened into an intrusive force, causing his eyes to open. Startled, he watched with curious astonishment as a purple mist emanated from the Tabernacle on the altar where the Holy Eucharist was kept. A singular focus began to take shape within the mist – a presence with form and face. An indescribable harmonic rhythm pulsated from an iridescent, glowing white and purple translucent form, which floated above the altar and then started moving toward him.

 His heart pounded with both fear and excitement as the ethereal presence shimmered before him. The apparition raised, what appeared to be, a filmy form of an arm that began to roll toward him like a slow moving ocean wave; it pointed a milky white semblance of a finger directly at his chest and then smoothly entered into Francis’ heart.

 Transfixed by the face of the purple presence, which seemed neither male nor female, froze his body, mind and spirit into an eternal moment of ecstasy. No words, only the rhythmic pulsing. He saw what he thought to be a smile forming on the face of the unworldly presence, his being filled with a soothing, warm liquid-like feeling as four names were imprinted into his mind.

Throngs of tourists spread out over St. Peter’s Square like a living quilt. The late morning sun broke through a bank of gray clouds, and rays of sun spotlighted the hills of Rome.

 Alfredo, the Pope’s personal secretary, knocked once and then entered the Pope’s private office. “Your Holiness,” Alfredo said, dipping his head in a gesture of respect, “you’ve got a full schedule today. By the way,” his voice rising slightly, “I should warn you that Cardinal Berini is on the warpath again. I heard him shouting up and down the halls that the American Bishops were trying to rewrite Church Doctrine again.”

 Ignoring Alfredo’s concerned warning, “Sit down, Alfredo,” the Pope said, removing his glasses and motioning him toward a chair next to his desk, “I want to talk to you.”

 The Pope’s usually robust and eager mood, to which Alfredo had become accustomed, was strangely absent. “ Is His Holiness feeling well?” he asked with genuine concern, as he sat down.

 “We are fine, Alfredo.” The Pope paused and looked out the window, which was slightly ajar, at two white doves sitting on the ledge, cooing. “I have a special request. A quiet assignment, Alfredo. Do you know what I mean?” Francis spoke softly as he studied Alfredo.

 Alfredo didn’t.

 For centuries, the word WE was always used instead of I when referring to the Papacy. After serving three Popes, the use of the word I threw Alfredo momentarily, but then he quickly reminded himself that this was the first American Pope in history, and more importantly the first one of Jewish decent, except for maybe the first few of course. So, if tradition were to be broken it seemed only fitting for Francis, the First, to do it. But Alfredo was puzzled. During the last eight years the Pope had never broken with any Vatican tradition. Why today?

 “Is it serious, Your Holiness?” Alfredo asked, as deep furrows formed on his brow.

 “No, no. Just personal,” he said, shaking his head.

 “Family?”

 “No, Alfredo. A personal favor. Nothing to do with family or Church business.”

 “Whatever Your Holiness wishes.” Alfredo nodded.

 “I want you to do this as...as a friend,” Francis said not quite sure how to ask. “You have served several Popes, and your loyalty has been unique. I know you’ll maintain the trust I place in you.”

 Alfredo began to feel uneasy. “Of course, Your Holiness.”

 “I know how difficult your assignment has been, considering everything.”

 Alfredo shrugged in a non-committal way.

 Francis began to pace. “The Church has become the order of men, instead of the order of God.”

 “Your Holiness,” Alfredo said, sounding like a professor, “Politics has always been part of the history and doctrine of the Church.”
“You’re right, of course.”

 “Your request, Holy Father?”

 “Ah, yes. Thank you, Alfredo.” The Pope pulled a notepad from his drawer, tore off a page and handed it to Alfredo. “Do you know these four names?”

 Alfredo studied them for a minute. “A couple of them look familiar, but I can’t be sure.” He started to hand the page back.

 “No, keep it. I want you to find out who these men are, or if they even exist.”

 The last words startled Alfredo. “You don’t know them then, Your Eminence?”

 “See what you can find out. Quietly, Alfredo.”

 “Yes, Your Holiness. I will be discreet.”

 “Thank you,” Francis sighed. “Now, for today’s agenda,” he said more upbeat.

 “Your first Audience is with a group of young Jesuit Priests from Venice. After that...”

 As Alfredo read off the day’s business, the Pontiff’s mind drifted off into the strange event of the night before. After experiencing a visitation, worthy only of the mystic saints, he should have felt exhilarated, consumed in a state of reverie. Instead, his mind reeled in confusion, and his heart ached with a foreboding feeling.

 When Alfredo left, Francis dressed to meet the young Jesuits.

 The Audience began as usual. Each priest was introduced, then knelt in the ritual show of obedience to the Vicar of Christ, and kissed the Ring that represented the power and majesty of the Papal Office. One by one they followed; Francis gave them each, in turn, the Papal Blessing, that was, until he heard the name “Father Antonio Salvi” -- the first name that had been imprinted by the strange apparition. The young Jesuit knelt before him. Francis’ heart quickened. “How long have you been a priest, my son?”

 Antonio was startled, visiting priests were spoken to only as a group, never individually. He couldn’t help but look up into the eyes of the Pontiff. “Five years, Your Holiness,” he words sputtered out.

 “I see... Well, may God bless you in your chosen mission,” Francis said. The word ‘mission’ instantly rang like a bell in his mind, and immediately realized that the apparition had come to deliver a Divine Mission, in which, somehow, this young priest was to play an important role. Francis gave him the Papal Blessing while making the Sign of the Cross over his head.

 When the Audience ended, Francis quickly asked one of the prelates how long the group would be visiting the Vatican.

 “Most of the day, Your Holiness,” he responded. “We’re giving them a complete tour, and then Cardinal Berini has insisted on giving them a private mass.”

 Francis knew it would be more a liturgical lecture than a Pastoral message. “Find Father Alfredo immediately, and have him come to my office.”

 The prelate nodded and moved away swiftly.

Eight years before, when the College of Cardinals had elected him Pope, Cardinal, Joseph McCully, had taken the name of Francis, the First, out of respect for St. Francis, the Founder of his order, the Franciscans.

 He had been the last Cardinal appointed just prior to the previous Pope’s death. The chance of him being a potential Successor was unimaginable. Not only because he had been newly appointed, but primarily because he was an American Cardinal, and the mood in the Vatican was to return the Papacy to an Italian. Cardinal Berini was the most obvious choice; he had lobbied, subtly and not so subtly, the most influential Cardinals.

 However, after the white smoke rose from the chimney announcing the election of a new Pope, the word spread like wild fire through the mass of people, who had been waiting patiently in the Square, that the newly elected Pope was an unknown American Cardinal; the mostly Italian crowd stared at each other in disbelief.

 Later, when the other Cardinals were asked by Berini concerning the voting, ironically, almost all of them were fuzzy about the actual voting. The next day the Italian newspapers ran bold headlines declaring the end of the Catholic Church as the world knew it. Cardinal Berini was furious, and made it known to everyone, including the new Pope.

 When it was later discovered that Pope Francis was not only a recently appointed American Cardinal, but that he was of Jewish decent who had been adopted by Catholic parents: the Lira dropped, the Italian Stock Market almost collapsed; and Cardinal Berini actually had a mild heart attack.

 But during the intervening years, Pope Francis, the First, had become one of the most effective spiritual spokesmen of the last century. It was he who had found the solution to the Balkan crisis, and personally mediated a comprehensive peace agreement, which amazingly enough had held, and in spite of the skepticism had been getting stronger over the last five years.

 Pope Francis, with his magnetic personality and his inclusive religious pronouncements, had inspired and activated a dormant spiritual power within the individual, regardless of their religious Faith. In the beginning, many had called him the Anti-Christ, but now most of his detractors fell silent. He had proven himself as a true religious leader, that is, except, to Berini who yearned for the good-old days of the Infallible Papacy.

Pope Francis paced in a circle studying the names he had written down. The first name was Antonio Salvi. He had written the names down immediately after the visitation in the exact order that they had appeared in his mind. He believed the names were given to him in a certain order for a specific reason. But what was the reason? Perhaps, after talking with Father Salvi he would have a better idea as to the significance of the order of the names.

After the customary knock, Father Alfredo walked, exuberantly, into the room. “Your Holiness…”

 “Ah, Alfredo.” Francis interrupted him with his own excitement. “I have met the first name on the list. He’s a young Jesuit from Venice. He was part of the Audience this morning. I want you to find him and bring him here, quickly and quietly, Alfredo. I do not want anyone to know of this meeting, especially, Berini.”

 “I will bring him immediately, Holy Father. Also, I believe I know two of the other names on the list,” Alfredo said, sharing the Pope’s excitement.

 “Good. Who are they?”

 “If I’m right...” he paused for minute and then frowned. “Holy Father, you may not like the man who belongs to this name. He is Angelo Gallucci, Capo di Capo of the Italian Mafia. He possess the name of an angel, but he does the work of the devil,” Alfredo said, crossing himself.

 Francis offered no outward reaction. “He’s the third name on the list, Alfredo.”

 “Yes, Holy Father. I thought you would like to know about him first. The second name on the list is Alexander Artemis, a United States Senator. His picture, conveniently enough, was all over the front pages of the morning papers. He’s the Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, and is due to be here in Rome in a few weeks for a scheduled meeting with the NATO countries. With all the talk of NATO breaking up, the speculation is that he’s bound to be a central figure in the debate.”

 “Has he taken a position?”

 “He’s a politician, Holy Father,” Alfredo said, screwing his face into a wry grin.

 “Anything else about him?”

 “Just gossip.”

 “Come, come Alfredo,” Francis said impatiently

 “The article said that he might not seek re-election. It seems that his daughter died under questionable circumstances, and he might have had the real cause of her death covered up. But, this is only suspicion, rumor, nothing more. The source is attributed to his political opponent.” Alfredo shrugged his shoulders. “You know politicians, Holy Father, who can be sure.”

 The words, ‘death of his daughter’, echoed in Francis’ ears like the sound of the Vatican bells. “Anything about when and how his daughter died?”

 “It was unclear, Holy Father. Maybe a year ago.”

 “Find Father Salvi, Alfredo.” His voice spiked with urgency.

 Alfredo nodded and left. Francis walked to the window and watched a flock of pigeons sail across a gray Italian sky, and thought again about the order of the names he had been given. The order had to be important. The rumor of the Senator’s daughter’s death darted through his mind, and suddenly, the warm, liquid-like feeling he had experienced the night before, filled his chest, and the word “Drugs” were etched into his mind. “Ah,” he said, quizzically to himself, “it seems, I am only to be told a little at a time.” Now, at least, he had a direction. His mind immediately turned to Gallucci. What about Gallucci? Devil or Angel?

Within ten minutes, Father Alfredo knocked on the door and entered into the Pope’s private office with the young Jesuit priest in tow. Father Salvi looked like someone who was being brought to the Principal’s office. s Before Alfredo could say a word, the Pope thanked him and raised one eyebrow, which was their private signal for him to leave. The Pope felt it unseemly and demeaning to ask his secretary to leave his Presence when others could hear.

 Alfredo bowed and exited quickly through the rustic, door of the Papal office. Father Salvi stood with his hands folded in front of him, feeling alone and very uncomfortable before the premiere Eminence of the Roman Catholic Church, to which he had dedicated his life

The Pope addressed the young priest in Italian. “Father, you look like the fox who ate the chicken.”

 “Your Holiness, have I done something wrong?” the young Jesuit asked with a great deal of nervousness. “Father Alfredo,” he said, perplexed, “was quite mysterious. We had to wait until the rest of the group moved on, and then we secretly took your private elevator, so that no one would see us coming here.”

 Francis answered, “I asked Father Alfredo to bring you here, discreetly. A little melodramatic, perhaps... But, please, come over here and sit down.”

 Father Salvi moved with the obedience of a servant and came over to where the Pope was sitting, knelt down next to him, and started to kiss the Ring.

 The Pope withdrew his hand. “Once today is enough. Please sit down Father... May I call you Antonio?” he asked.

 “Of course, Holy Father,” he replied and sat down in an ancient wooden chair.

 “Antonio,” the Pope began with a smile, “tell me about yourself? By the way, you are not in any trouble.”

 Antonio relaxed, but only slightly. “Well, Holy Father, I was born in a small town just outside of Palermo...”

 Ah, Angelo Gallucci the Pope mused. Palermo, Sicily was the command center of the Mafia.

 “...I had a Calling at an early age. My mother believed it was a good idea to have a priest in the family, so I was encouraged.”

 “And your father?”

 “He thought it might be useful someday. You know how Sicilians are.”

 “You don’t have a Sicilian accent.”

 “I do when I need it.”

 “Do you also speak English?”

 “Very well, Holy Father,” Antonio replied in perfect English. “I also speak five other languages fluently,” Antonio said with pride. “And, if I might say, Holy Father, you speak beautiful Italian.”

 “For an American?” the Pope quipped in English.

 “Forgive me, Holy Father, I meant no disrespect.”

 “None taken. Please continue, in English, if you don’t mind?”

 “I would like that very much, I need the practice. But, there’s not much more to tell, Holy Father. I entered the Seminary at seventeen. I had, let’s say, an aptitude for learning, so they sent me to Venice where I was ordained after ten years, and have been there ever since.”

 “What were your studies, aside from what was required?”

 “Political Science, Holy Father.”

 Again things started to take shape. “Why Political Science?”

 “You know the Jesuits, they’re into everything.”

 “So, I’ve been told. But I was referring to why you studied Politics.”

 “I have had some ambition to work in the Vatican’s Foreign Service. Maybe, even apply for a position in one of the Vatican’s Embassies somewhere.”

 “I see. And are you going to apply?”

 “It is a difficult process, Holy Father. So much red tape; so many permissions from so many higher ups. Besides, I think they intend to send me back to Sicily.”

 “How do you know?”

 “One of the Monsignors has suggested it.”

 “Antonio,” the Pope paused and looked intently at the handsome young priest, “is your family Mafioso?”

 Antonio squirmed. “Holy Father, everyone in Sicily has some family in the Mafia.”

 “Angelo Gallucci,” the Pope enunciated the name with precise intention.

 “Holy Father, I have done nothing wrong. And I am proud to be a Sicilian,” Antonio said defensively.

 “Calm yourself Antonio. It was merely a name. Do you know him?” It wasn’t merely a name.

 “He’s my uncle, Holy Father,” Antonio said quietly and with great trepidation.

 “He’s a powerful man. Does he want you back in Palermo?”

 “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in many years.”

 “Do you think the Monsignor’s suggestion was coincidence?”

 “Not really,” he said fidgeting.

 The Pope got up and walked over to a wall cabinet and withdrew some papers. “Fill these out. I am sending you on a Papal mission.” He handed the papers to Antonio.

 As he read the papers he could hardly contain himself. “These papers are assigning me to the Vatican Embassy in Washington, DC.”

 “I am making you a Special Papal Ambassador-at-large. You will report only to me. I will arrange that no one will question anything you do.”

 “Holy Father, with all due respect, there will be many questions. What shall I say?”

 “You will say you are learning to be a politician. We cannot let your studies go in vain.”

 “Your Holiness, I do not understand any of this. First, your questions scared me, now you give me what I have always dreamed of, but never imagined possible. To go to the United States is more than a dream come true.” Antonio fell to his knees. “I am not worthy of this honor, Holy Father.”

 Pope Francis picked him up by the shoulders. “None of us are worthy, my son.”

 Antonio brushed a tear from his eye. “What do you want me to do, Holy Father?”

 “I don’t know yet. You will remain here in the Vatican. Father Alfredo will make the arrangements. Tomorrow you will have your Diplomatic Passport. You are to talk to no one. You’re to answer no questions. Not even to your family. From now on you will make contact with no one without my consent. I assume you take your vow of Obedience seriously,” The Pope said, raising an eyebrow.

 “I do Holy Father.”

 “Good. Then you will leave for Washington day after tomorrow.”

 “What should I do when I get there?”

 “Before you leave I will tell you.” The Pope had no better answer. He only hoped that he would have something to tell him.

 

CHAPTER 2

 

WASHINGTON, DC

Senator Alexander Artemis held one of the most powerful positions in Congress. As Chairman of the Armed Services Committee he controlled the purse strings of the world's most sophisticated Army. An Army designed to protect a Nation; but, in the end, he couldn't even protect the life of his own daughter.

 His eyes flooded with tears as he held the framed photograph of his daughter's high school graduation picture. How beautiful she was. How young. How much he loved her. And now that love was turning him inside-out with hate and guilt.

 He had become morose and irritable, the least little thing set him off. His colleagues tiptoed around him. He had never been late for a committee meeting, but now it had become a continual pattern. His work in Congress had seemed so unimportant now. He was in the throes of a deep depression, but refused to acknowledge it. Now his wife was threatening to leave him. He felt lost in a world of confusion; life no longer held any meaning for him. What happened? What had gone wrong? What had he done wrong? Why couldn't he have stopped it?

 He had now excluded everyone from his life, except the memory of his daughter and the ones who were responsible for her death.

 A harsh knock on the door interrupted his emotions. He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Come in," he called out.

 His Chief of Staff, Walter Baker, walked into the office. "Senator, it's almost time for your committee meeting."

 "I'll be ready in a minute," he said shuffling some unimportant papers.

 "Senator, is everything all right?" Walter asked.

 Alexander Artemis wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and keep on screaming, No! No! No!…”Walt, I said I'd be ready," he snapped.

 Walter Baker just stood there and finally said, "Senator, we have a few minutes. Can I speak with you?"

 "Not now Walt."

 "I'm considering resigning," he said flatly.

 "Oh, for Christ sakes, not you too Walter!” he said as a wave of despair washed over him. “First, my wife, and now you. After everything that's happened..." His words trailed off.

 "Alex," Walter said, sitting down his huge, six foot-four frame, "we can't stand by and watch you ruin yourself and throw away a lifetime of accomplishment."

 "So, the answer is to run away?"

 "That's exactly what you're doing,” Walter said frustrated. “Running away as fast as you can. Marian feels if she leaves you, that you might come to your senses and get some help. And, frankly, so do I."

 The Senator turned his back and stared out of the window. He wished he could stop the pain, and the anger.

 "There's talk they're going to vote you out of your Chairmanship."
"Fuck'em!" Artemis swung around, his face contorted in a twisted rage. "Let'em try. I'll step on'em like ants!"

 "That's the point, Alex. We're all just a bunch of ants to you." Walter threw a folder on the Senator's desk. "I think you can handle this meeting by yourself." Walter Baker turned and stomped out of the office.

 Alexander Artemis dropped to his knees and cried out from the bottom of his soul, "God, please help me!"

 At that instant, the intercom came on, "Senator, there's a Father Antonio Salvi on the line. Should I take a message?"

Father Antonio Salvi had arrived at the Vatican Embassy the night before. For the first time in his life he felt important. Just a few days before, he was dreading the thought of returning to Palermo and leading the life of a Parish priest. Not that it was an unimportant job, but he loved learning, and he loved Venice. He wanted to make a difference, contribute something to the Church, something that would be of value. And now, the Holy Father had made it possible.

 Antonio thought about his flight from Rome. The Pontiff had insisted that he fly 'First Class'. He felt as though he were being treated like royalty. The Embassy had sent a black limousine to pick him up at the airport, and the Bishop, himself, greeted him. Antonio quickly reminded himself that Pride was a sin. Tomorrow he would go to Confession.

 But then, looking around at the beautiful quarters he had been given in the Embassy, he said to himself, "For tonight, I will relish the feelings, after all, it is only a venial sin."

 Before leaving the Vatican, he had one last meeting with the Pope. He was told to meet with a United States Senator by the name of Alexander Artemis and to give him a message: ‘Pope Francis is ready to help you with your mission.’ He was then told never to repeat the message to anyone, except to the Senator, which made Antonio believe that the Holy Father and the Senator must be working together on something very important. What Antonio couldn't figure out, however, was why the Pontiff had sent him. The only other thing that the Pope had requested was to report the Senator's response to him immediately.

 The following morning he called the Senator's office and was given an appointment for that very afternoon. Having had experience at trying to get appointments with higher-ups in the Church, Antonio was surprised at the ease in which he was able to secure an immediate appointment with such an important man. And that confused Antonio all the more, because he had not mentioned the Pope's name or the purpose of his visit. Perhaps, the Pope had called the Senator and told him he was coming. But, if he had called him, then why hadn't the Pope simply given the message to the Senator himself?

 A tiny fear crept into Antonio's mind. After delivering the message, would the Pontiff order him to return to Venice, and then to Palermo? Somehow, he vowed to himself, he had to make himself a part of this mission. He would not go back without doing everything he could to stay. And then he remembered what the Pontiff had asked him: "Do you take your vow of Obedience seriously". Antonio knew he had no choice in the matter. But, he decided that he would not go easily. Tonight, he would send a powerful prayer to God.

Antonio had been instructed by the Pope not to tell anyone what he was doing or where he was going, so he took a taxi to the Senator's office. No one at the Embassy had asked any questions, including the Bishop, who had been most cordial to him. Antonio figured the Pope had made things clear to everyone. He only wished that the Pope had made things clear to him. But he was not complaining, he was glad to be here. And whatever will be, will be.

 Father Antonio Salvi walked proudly into the Senator's office and presented himself to a very polite elderly woman, who promptly spoke into the intercom and announced that he, Father Antonio Salvi, had arrived.

 "Send him in, Mildred," the reply came back.

 Antonio straightened his jacket, adjusted his white collar and walked into the Senator's office. The Senator was seated behind an enormous desk with folders placed in neat stacks across the front of it.

 "What can I do for you, Father…?"

 "Father Antonio Salvi,” he stated. “I have a message from Pope Francis, the First, the Pontiff in Rome."

 The Senator eyed the young priest who was standing in front of him like a soldier at attention, and then asked, "Who are you?"

 "I am a Special Ambassador for the Pontiff." Antonio immediately showed him his Diplomatic Passport.

 "Is this is an official visit?" the Senator asked, not sure what to make of the young priest.

 "I would say more like a secret visit," Antonio stated, still standing stiff and erect.

 "A secret visit?" the Senator asked confused.

 "I was told by the Holy Father not to speak of this visit with anyone. And the message I have been instructed to give you, under my vow of Obedience, I can not repeat to anyone else."

 "Like our Secrecy Oath?" Artemis asked, trying to understand.

 "I am not familiar with your Secrecy Oath, Senator," Antonio responded.

 "Well, let me understand then." The Senator rose slightly in his chair. "You have a secret message from the Pope that can only be delivered to me, is that right?"

 "That is correct, Senator," Antonio replied.

 "Father Salvi," the Senator began, "I have never met your Pope. I'm not even a Catholic. It is true that Pope Francis has been of immeasurable help in negotiating the Bosnian/Serb Peace Agreement, and I for one, am very grateful.  I have nothing but the highest regard for your Pope, but frankly, Father, I'm a bit baffled."

 "Then you're not working on something important together?" Antonio asked as his eyes flashed confusion.

 The Senator didn't miss Antonio's reaction. "As I said, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Pope Francis, but I certainly look forward to such a meeting."

 Antonio composed himself, and got right to the point. "This is the message, Senator: 'Pope Francis is ready to help you with your mission."

 "I'm not working on any mission, except the usual Committee agendas. Are you sure I'm the man you want to see?"

 "Quite sure, Senator. Pope Francis was explicit." Antonio paused for a second not knowing exactly what to say next. "I had assumed that you asked for the Pope's help."

 Alexander Artemis shifted in his chair, and remembered the coincidence of the phone call at the very moment he was crying out for help. And, in that split second, without thinking, he had agreed to see Father Salvi. He had regretted the decision almost immediately. He concluded he had made such an irrational decision because of his emotional state of mind, and a deep feeling of desperation. Whatever the reason, he had wanted to cancel the meeting, but didn't know how to reach Father Salvi.

 "I don't know what to say. Father Salvi...I" 

Father Salvi’s mind drifted off into some unknown place. A single word entered his mind, and he uttered it to the Senator: "Drugs!"

 The word stabbed hard into the pit of the Senator's stomach. Artemis jumped up from behind his desk and screamed, " Just who in the hell are you?"

 Normally, an outburst like that would have rattled the young priest. But, for some reason, Father Salvi remained calm. "I'm here to help you, Senator," he said with a soft compassion.

 The words had an immediate effect. The Senator fell backwards into his chair and started to weep. Father Salvi walked over to the Senator and put his hands on his shoulders, and began praying out-loud the only words that Alexander Artemis could hear, "God will help you, Senator."

 Instantly, the weeping turned into a sobbing wail that Alexander Artemis could not stop.

 To Antonio, Alexander Artemis was no longer a Senator, he was now, merely, a penitent in need, and he would not attempt to stop the painful sobbing. Crying was the only prayer that Alexander Artemis knew how to pray.

 The young Jesuit walked behind the Senator and put his hands on his shoulders and prayed. Antonio had no idea how long he prayed as he held the sobbing Artemis. Time was irrelevant.

 Finally, the sobs began to subside as Artemis slowly began to regain his composure. “I’ve lost everything, Father.” His voice was shaky and hoarse from the deep, gut wrenching experience. "My wife, my friends, probably my career; but most of all the love of my daughter."

 "Love can never be lost, Senator," Antonio intoned quietly, walking around to the front of the desk.

 "My daughter is dead. Killed by filthy drugs," he said, screeching the words.

 "You felt ashamed, and you covered it up. Didn't you, Senator?" Antonio had no idea where the words were coming from. He spoke them as they formed in his mind.

 The words stunned the Senator. Anger began to boil within him as he glared at the man who had just prayed over him, but now said the most despicable thing imaginable. "If you weren't a priest I'd hit you for saying that."

 "If I weren't a priest, I wouldn't have said it."

 "You think that collar allows you to say something like that to me?" he spit out the words.

 "Senator, there's an old saying, ‘The truth will set you free’."

 "You give me religious clichés!" the Senator's eyes steeled at Antonio. "I think you'd better leave."

 "And I think you'd better face yourself." Antonio was startled by his own willingness to engage this powerful man. "You asked me earlier who I was. I ask you, now, who are you? A man? A father? Or a Senator?"

 "What are you driving at?" he said, still captured within his anger.

 "A father is never ashamed of his child."

 "I did it to save her reputation. Can't you understand?"

 "Help me to understand, Senator Artemis. Help me to understand why your soul aches, and yet, you do nothing about it. You cry like a child. Do you think your Father in Heaven is ashamed of you?"

 "Then why did God do this to me?"

 "You blame God, Senator?"

 "Why did God let this happen to my daughter? She was beautiful. She never hurt anyone."

 "Senator, there is an evil in the world. It is called 'Drugs'. It was drugs that killed your daughter, and the men who sell them to children for profit." Antonio paused and then said, "Pope Francis has sent me here to help you with your mission."

 "What mission?"

 "The elimination of drugs from the face of the earth." The words were now just spilling out. "You're a powerful man, Senator. It is a mission worthy of your daughter. And Pope Francis is ready to help you with your mission."

 The words penetrated deep into his being. Alexander Artemis could feel the waves of emotion beginning to release within him. He looked into Father Salvi's eyes, "It is a mission worthy of my daughter," he said softly.

 "Worthy of all children, Senator. Your daughter was a victim, like so many thousands of other children who have been the victims of drugs. Let us cry Senator, for all the children, and the parents who have lost, as you have, their precious child."

 Artemis thought for a long time before speaking. "A war on drugs!" he said vehemently, pounding the top of his desk.

 "No, Senator. Not a war. There have been too many wars."

 "Father, I appreciate your sentiment, but forgive me for saying, you're young and naive. We have already spent billions of dollars trying to stop the drug trade. The more drug dealers we capture, the more take their place. They have armies, Father. They have money and guns. They control the people through terror; they corrupt the politicians, even Presidents of countries. No, Father, if we are to stop the drug trade we must have an all-out war. Call it a 'Holy War' if you like, but nonetheless, a war!"

 "Senator, there is much about me you do not know. It is true that I am young, but far from naive. And neither is the Pontiff."

 "Preaching is not going to get the job done."

 "I do not believe preaching is what the Holy Father has in mind. He sent me here to give you his message. You! Senator. Why he selected you, I don't know. But he was very clear that this message was to be given only to you."

 "What do you suggest then?" Artemis said softening his tone.

 "I will speak with the Holy Father. Maybe he has some ideas. Can we meet again, Senator?"

 "Of course, anytime." Artemis managed a smile. "In the meantime, I will consider other ideas, besides a war." Artemis wanted to say something more, but didn't know how, so he just sat there feeling helpless.

 "Is there something you want to ask, Senator?" Antonio inquired.

 "I want to say thank you, but under the circumstances it doesn't seem adequate... It's been a long time, Father, since I thought about God... My parents were Greek Orthodox, they did their best to raise me in the Church, but I always thought I knew better than the priests. I guess, maybe, I was wrong."

 "Priests, too, can be wrong, Senator. Only God is right. May I suggest a prayer now and then," Antonio said with a smile.

Antonio reported to Pope Francis when he returned to the Embassy, doing his best to describe his meeting in detail, especially, the Senator's frame of mind.

 "Did the Senator explain to you the circumstances surrounding his daughter's death?" the Pope asked when Antonio finished.

 "No, Holy Father. It didn't seem like the right time to pry. He was hurting, Your Holiness," Antonio replied compassionately.

 "I understand, my son. But when you meet with him again, Antonio, it is imperative that we find out."

 "I will do my best, Holy Father." Antonio paused and then said, "I've been having strange thoughts."

 "What kind of thoughts, Antonio?"

 "When I was speaking with the Senator, the word 'Drugs' just appeared in my mind. And later, when I left the Senator's office, the words ‘Cautious. Be cautious, Antonio,’ came to me. What does it mean, Holy Father? Why am I here?"

 Pope Francis could feel Antonio's fear and confusion. "The Angel of the Lord will protect you, Antonio. This mission has just begun. Much will be asked of us. It will take courage, but we have been chosen."

 Antonio assumed the we referred to the Papal we. "I will meet again with the Senator, and find out what you have requested, Holy Father."

 Pope Francis wanted to repeat the same words that Antonio had been given, "Be cautious", but thought better of it. Instead, he said, "Antonio, remember what I said to you, 'The Angel of the Lord will protect you'."

 "Yes, Your Holiness, I will remember."

 Antonio hung up the phone, and suddenly started shaking. He dropped to his knees and prayed. "Oh, God, in my foolishness and pride, I asked you to let me be a part of this mission. I am only a simple priest. I am not trained to talk with powerful men. The Holy Father has put his trust in me, but I am fearful he has chosen the wrong man. And then suddenly he heard the voice of Pope Francis as clearly as if he were standing next to him, "I will always be with you."

THE SENATOR’S OFFICE

The next day Alexander Artemis convened a meeting with his entire staff, including his wife, who had been his Campaign Manager, and whom he considered to be one of the most astute political observers he had ever known. Maybe, that’s why he married her. Maybe, that’s why he stilled loved her after twenty-five years. Before anyone arrived, Alexander went over in his mind the events of the day before.

After his meeting with Father Salvi, he had immediately left his office feeling like a great weight had been lifted from him. He felt like a new man; a man with a purpose. He knew what he had to do.

 As he drove down the congested Washington Turnpike, he thought of all the ways he could apologize to his wife. What could he tell her that wouldn’t sound like he had completely gone over the edge? If he recounted what had happened during his meeting with the young priest, Marian would never believe it. He could hardly believe it. He then considered for a minute that he had hallucinated the whole thing. No, he could prove that he had a meeting with Father Salvi, his secretary could testify to that fact. Still, he knew that he couldn’t tell his wife everything that had occurred, at least, not for now. However, he had to find a way to explain his apparent transformation. He couldn’t even explain it to himself. All he knew was that he felt strong again. In command, like he was before. No, that was not exactly right, not in command, in search -- In search of a way to make his daughter’s death a victory instead of making her a victim. Father Salvi was right; it was a mission worthy of his daughter. The young priest was also right about facing himself; in one sentence the priest had penetrated to the awful truth: he had been more concerned about his reputation than his daughter’s. And that fact, which he had refused to face, had been eating at his insides like a cancer.

 He then thought about Father Salvi’s phone call at the very moment he had cried out for God’s help, and the cryptic message from a Pope he had never met. And finally, the advice the young priest had given him, “May I suggest a prayer now and then.” And that’s exactly what Alexander Artemis had done before entering his house to face his wife.

 At first, he sat uncomfortably not knowing how to begin. His wife, Marian, just sat on the sofa staring at him from across the room through her piercing blue eyes, which made him all the more nervous.

 Finally, he simply said, “I love you.”

 His wife didn’t move a muscle, nor did her facial expression change.

 Alexander fidgeted like a high school boy. “I love you,” he repeated, and tears started welling up in his eyes.

 “You need help, Alex,” she said coldly.

 “Marian, I need your help,” he said, emphasizing ‘your’.

 “I’ve done everything I can do.”

 “I’ll do anything that you ask, if you’ll just listen to me,” Alex pleaded.

 Marian let out a deep, unenthused sigh. “All right, Alex. I’m listening.”

 “I know, now, what’s been wrong with me. Why I’ve acted the way I have.” Alex said and walked over and sat down next to his wife.

 Marian stiffened.

 “I couldn’t face the truth.”

 “And what truth is that?” she asked sarcastically.

 The tears started coming again. “I’m afraid to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”

 “I don’t hate you, Alex. I can never hate you. I love you. But, I can’t live with you anymore. You’re destroying yourself, and I will not let you destroy me as well.”

 Alex dabbed at his eyes. “When Alicia died, I covered everything up. I said it was to save her reputation, but the truth was that I was trying to save my own. My career was more important than my daughter’s death. That’s the awful truth I couldn’t face. And that guilt has been driving me crazy.”

 “And tell me Alex, how did you come to this awful truth? You think I didn’t know that?” she said with a fiery fierceness. “I needed you to comfort me, to hold me. To mourn together for our daughter.”

 “I’m sorry, Marian. I’m sorry for all that I have done, and for all that I should have done.”

 “You still haven’t told me how you came to this remarkable revelation,” she said unconvinced.

 “I...I saw a priest.”

 “Alex. You? Saw a priest?” she said disbelieving. “I know you, Alex, you make fun of priests.”

 Alex wanted to tell her everything, but couldn’t. “It’s true. A Father Salvi from the Vatican Embassy paid me a surprise visit. Something Pope Francis was concerned about.”

 “What was he concerned about?” she said still skeptical.

 Alex had to do some real fast thinking. “It was something about the potential break-up of NATO.”

 “What about it?” she persisted.

 “I’m the Chairman of the Armed Services Committee. I guess he was looking for some answers. You know he’s very political,” he said trying to make some sense.

 “Alex, you’re not telling me everything. I can always tell when you’re lying.”

 “I can’t tell you everything, Marian. At least, not yet. You’ll have to trust me about that. But I want you to look into my eyes,” he said staring straight into hers. “I had a long talk with this Father Salvi, he sensed something was wrong...I guess, it’s obvious to everyone.”

 “Well, Alex, you got that right.”

 “Please, Marian, this is hard enough.”

 “I’m sorry, Alex, go ahead.”

 “All I can tell you is that we prayed together.”

 Marian started to laugh.

 Alex gently grabbed both of her arms. “We prayed Marian. I prayed! After, I felt a huge relief...I can’t explain it...a release of my own guilt, I suppose.” Alex squeezed her arms a little tighter. “Now, look in my eyes and tell me I’m lying.” He said as sincerely as he knew how.

 “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really did talk to this priest,” she said, softening her voice for the first time.

 Alex pulled her close, and before she knew what was happening, he kissed her as passionately as he had ever kissed her. “I love you,” he said as he released his embrace.

 Marian just stared at him. Alex felt a slight tremor coming from her body and then he saw the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “I love you,” he repeated gently, and kissed her softly on the mouth. “I need you. I need to love you. I need to make right all the things that I have done wrong.”

 Marian was stunned. “Alex...I don’t know...my bags are packed,” she said, caught between emotions.” I was just about to leave...you came home early.” She turned her back to him.

 Alex turned her around. “I’m back, for real, Marian,” he said and kissed her again.

 Marian responded with her whole body, and held him tightly. “I’ve cried, I’ve prayed for this, Alex.”

 “From now on we’ll pray together.” Alex brushed a long curl of hair from the side of her face, then took a handkerchief and softly wiped away the tears.

 They walked upstairs holding hands, and Alex made love to her for the first time in a year.

 Afterwards, he said, “I feel like a teenager.”

 Marian just smiled and cuddled in his arms.

Alexander’s office staff, his wife, and Walter Baker, who had come only because Marian had asked him, settled around the room.

 “I’m waiting for one more person,” Alex said.

 Everyone looked at each other to see who was missing. No one was.

 “Who?” Marian asked. She was as surprised as anyone.

 Alex looked at his watch. “He should be here any minute, Darling.”

 The words were barely out of his mouth when Father Antonio Salvi walked into the room.

 “Would you close the door, Father,” Alex said, “and we’ll get started.

 The shock was obvious on everyone’s face, especially, Marian’s.

 “I want you all to meet, Father Antonio Salvi,” Alex said enthusiastically.

 Strained smiles and nods rotated around the room, except for Father Salvi, who was beaming at everyone.

 “Father Salvi is a Special Ambassador from the Vatican in Rome. It’ll become clear, later, why I’ve invited him.”

 Alex rubbed two sweaty hands together and began, “To say that I’ve made all of your lives miserable during the past year, including my own, is putting it mildly. First, I want to apologize to everyone, especially to my wife, and to you Walter.” Alex took a step toward him. “You’re not only the best Chief of Staff on the Hill, but you’re my friend. And I’m asking you to forgive me for my behavior. I need you.”

 Walter looked at Marian. She smiled and nodded approvingly.

 “Have I missed something here, Alex?” Walter said not knowing what else to say.

 “Apparently, we all have,” Marian said.

 “What’s been missing here, is Me. Well, I’m back. And I owe it to Father Salvi, my wife, and to you, Walter, for helping me to face myself.”

 Alex reached out a hand to Walter, who took it, and then gave him a hardy handshake. Still bewildered by the astonishing turn of events, Walter was only able to crack a small smile. Alex then walked behind his desk and stood with his hands on the back of his chair, and looked at everyone – one at a time.

 “I want everyone here to know the truth about Alicia’s death. I know there have been rumors flying around,” Alex said waving an arm in the air. “But I want you to know the truth, the whole truth.” Alex turned and looked at his wife and flashed her a nervous smile. She returned it with an encouraging one. “It was the night of her graduation,” Alex began, “Alicia and some of her classmates had arranged for a party that night – you know – the kind of party when you’re not sure if you’ll ever see each other again... She looked beautiful...” Alex could feel the emotions rising up inside. “What I am about to tell you is what I’ve pieced together from police reports, other teenagers who attended the party, and from their parents.”

 Alex paused and shifted behind the chair and began again haltingly, as if trying to remember something from the distant past; but the fact was, his memory was as clear as if it were yesterday:

Alex was sitting on the sofa reading an article in the Washington Times about the First Lady. Marian was snuggled next to him reading the same article over his shoulder. “The First Lady puts her foot in her mouth again,” the caption read. The article went on to state that a Susan Aimes, a Society news reporter, asked her what she thought about the color of the Blue Room, and the First Lady responded, “I don’t know why they don’t paint it pink”.

 Alex started chuckling, and Marian gave him a gentle whack on the shoulder, “She was only joking, Alex. You know how those media hounds are stalking her for one of those one-liners,” she said defensively.

 “I know, but it’s funny,” Alex lied. “She reminds me of Gerald Ford, always tripping over himself.”

 “You don’t think it’s funny at all, you think she’s funny,” Marian said and jabbed him in the ribs, which caused Alex to start laughing all the more. “She can’t help herself, and those media vultures keep setting her up,” Marian said disgusted.

 Alex calmed down. “Sweetheart, you know I like her personally, but you have to admit, sometimes she...”

 Marian just groaned. “You know you’re a real chauvinist, Alex.”

 “I know, that’s why you married me,” Alex said and grabbed her trying to kiss her neck. Marian feigned resistance, and soon they were playfully wrestling on the sofa, when...

 “Is that anyway for an old married couple to act,” Alicia said pretending to sound stern as she came bouncing down the staircase.

 For an instant, Alex and Marian froze in place, as if they were playing “Simon Says Freeze”. Marian immediately adjusted her clothes and tried patting her hair back into place. “Darling, you look great in that dress,” Marian said not wanting to answer the obvious.

 “A little tight, don’t you think?” Alex said and winked at his daughter.

 “Oh, Daddy, I’m eighteen years old now. And, besides, haven’t you heard about boys?” Alicia said knowing exactly how to tease her father.

 “Yes, I have, and that’s what I’m afraid of,” he responded in a serious tone.

 “Oh, Alex,” Marian said. “She looks beautiful.”

 “That’s precisely the point, I...” Alex stopped in mid-sentence, he knew he had been sucked in. “Yes, you look absolutely beautiful, Ally,” he said smiling.

 Whenever he called her Ally, his daughter knew she had succeeded. “You really think so, Daddy?” she said and twirled once around the room.

 “Almost as beautiful as your mother,” he said. Alex felt that was worth at least one “Gotcha”.

 “Who’s picking you up?” Marian asked in vain, trying to stop the game.

 “David is. His father’s loaning him the Buick.”

 That got a rise out of her father. Alicia knew she was ahead on points.

 “I don’t know why the two of you play this silly one-up’s-man-ship. You know it usually leads to an argument between the two of you,” Marian said, annoyed at the both of them.

 “Mom, but it’s fun watching Daddy get so serious.”

 “Well, I don’t think it’s funny,” Marian said.

 Alex kept his mouth shut. Staying quiet was the better part of valor.

 “Don’t be too late, Alicia,” her mother said just as a horn honked from outside.

 “It’s David. It’s going to be a great party,” she giggled. “Promise, I won’t be too late,” she said half-skipped out of the room toward the front door.

 “And stay out of that Buick,” Alex yelled after her.

 “If I do, then I can’t get to the party. Can I? Don’t wait up…Bye.”

 Those were the last words that they would ever hear from their daughter as the sound of the door slammed shut.

Alexander Artemis trembled inside as the words “Don’t wait up…Bye,” echoed in his mind. It was almost too much for him to continue. Marian walked over to him and rubbed his back lovingly.

 Several people in the room wiped a tear away. The last year had been hell for their boss, and they all knew why.

 But, for Walter, listening to it now, made him feel guilty and ashamed he had walked out on the one man who had hired and trusted him when he couldn’t even get a job interview on the Hill at the time.

 Alex sat down in the chair he had been using to steady himself. Marian stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder.

 “About three in the morning the Police Department called.” Alex started to choke up, but continued, “They said six teenagers were dead from a drug over-dose, and twenty others were hospitalized. Seems, someone had spiked the punch, or whatever they were drinking.”

 Alex paused to re-collect himself. A complete silence draped over the room. Father Antonio said a silent prayer for the man who was finally beginning to grieve.

 “I went down to the police station and put a clamp on everything. Of course, everyone cooperated. I asked all the parents to let me handle it; I said it was our children’s reputation that must be protected. They all agreed, including the surviving teenagers. The newspaper reported only that six teenagers had died in an unfortunate automobile accident; the other teenagers were never mentioned. I covered it all up, very neatly. Police records, coroner reports, hospital records; yeah, they all cooperated all right, including the parents.” The words started coming harder now. “Yes, I did care about my daughter’s reputation; but the truth is, at that moment, I cared more about my own reputation and the shame I felt.” Alex just sat there, shaking his head.

 No one in the room said a word. There were no words to say.

 “Why don’t we take a five minute break,” Marian said, not feeling very steady herself.

 “Walter, would you and Father Salvi please stay?” Alex asked.

 After everyone left, Walter went over and put his huge arms around both Alex and Marian. The three of them had been through thick and thin, and now, to hell and back. As they slowly broke their embrace, Alex glanced over at Father Salvi who had been sitting quietly on the sofa. “Oh, Father,” Alex said, “please forgive us, this reunion has been a long time coming.”

 “On the contrary, I feel very privileged to have witnessed it,” Antonio said warmly.

 Walter walked over to the priest, “I haven’t introduced myself properly. I’m Walter Baker, Alex’s Chief of Staff. I’m grateful for whatever part you’ve played in bringing Alex back to us.”

 “Senator Artemis brought himself back,” Antonio replied, matter-of-factly, as they shook hands.

 Marian chimed in, “This is all so awkward, Father. I, too, am grateful. But...” she continued with a puzzled look on her face, “you’re like a mystery man, appearing, seemingly from out of no where. I have a thousand questions.”

 Alex interrupted, “Sweetheart, they’ll all be answered,” he said rubbing the small of her back, and then added to himself, “I hope.”

 Marian and Walter just looked at each other and then at Alex.

 “Before the staff comes back, there’s something you should know. I’ve decided to run for the Presidency,” Alex stated calmly.

 Walter and Marian’s mouth dropped open in unison. The shock of hearing Alex’s pronouncement registered on their faces like someone who had just witnessed a train wreak. Marian blurted out before Walter could say the same thing, “Alex, you said, and I quote, ‘If I ever entertain any thoughts about running for the Presidency, please have me committed to an insane asylum’, end of quote.” The incredulity in her voice was obvious.

 Walter fell backwards onto a wooden framed chair, his huge bulk nearly collapsing it. He put his hands on his head, and his head between his legs, and let out a loud moan, “Marian. Marian,” he said, pleading for help.

 Marian re-gathered herself. “Walter, now, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” she said after studying her husband’s face. His calm, firm voice and his body language conveyed a seriousness that she had seen only once before – the first time he had announced his candidacy for the US Senate. His tone and manner were exactly the same. The possibility scared and excited her all at the same time. She held her husband’s shoulders and stared intently into his eyes, “You can’t be serious?”

 “Serious as a heart attack,” he said smiling like Cheshire cat.

 “What’s up, Alex? What’s going on behind those beady, brown eyes?” she prodded.

 “I’ve been given a mission, Marian,” Alex said changing the tone of his voice so that his words would not be mistaken.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Walter said still in a state of disbelief. “Forgive me, Alex, but are you okay?”

 Marian promptly came to his defense, “I’ve seen this look before. He’s serious all right, Walter,” she said still holding her husband’s gaze.

 “I am,” he said to her softly.

 Marian wrapped her arm around her husband’s arm and then led him to a small sofa and sat him down. “So, what do you want us to do?” she asked; now changing roles from wife to Campaign Manager.

 “I’m not sure,” Alex said.

 “Well, you must have thought about it. Do you have a strategy in mind?”

 “I have a mission,” he repeated enigmatically.

 Hearing that, Marian sat down next to him. She began feeling confused and worried, and it scared her.

 Walter came to life, “Alex, do you want to be President, or are you on a mission?” he asked not understanding any of it.

 “I know one thing, I don’t want to be President,” Alex said, confounding Marian and Walter all the more. “I intend to stop the Drug-Trade. Not only here, but all over the world. I want to save the children. Alicia’s death will not be meaningless,” he said emphatically. “Our campaign platform will be a single issue: End the illegal drug-trade on a global scale. Running for the Presidency will give me the perfect forum. The rest, I don’t know,” he said looking quizzically at Father Salvi.

 Antonio wanted to help, but his vow would not let him repeat the Pope’s message.

 “Whose idea is this, anyway?” Walter asked.

 “I don’t really know,” Alex replied honestly. “All I know, is that my life has changed since I met Father Salvi...Maybe,” Alex said addressing the young priest, “you can explain it?”

 “I’m sorry, Senator, I was only told to deliver the Pope’s message to you. I don’t know anymore than that.”

 “Did this message,” Walter cut in, “say that the Senator was to stop drugs all over the world?”

 Alex stepped in. “No, his message was simply that he was ready to support me in my mission.”

 “This is too weird for words,” Walter said shaking his head.

 “No!” Marian said with purpose, “Alex is right. The Drug issue must be addressed. And, Alex’s running for the Presidency will give him the perfect forum.”

 Alex looked at his wife and felt a love for her that was close to ecstatic. He heard the same confident tone in her voice as he did, twenty-five years before, when he had announced his decision to run for the US Senate. And, it was on that day, at that moment, he had fallen completely in love with her.

 “You’ll have to give up your Senate seat,” Walter said, hoping it would make a difference.

 “My Senate seat is not important.” Alex cleared his throat and then asked, “Father Salvi, I would like you to join our team, that is, if you are willing?”

 “I came only to deliver a message, Senator.”

 “I know, I know,” Alex said, “but Pope Francis’ message said he was ready to support me in my mission.”

 I will ask the Pontiff when I speak with him tonight,” Antonio said, “but he may have other plans for me.”

 “I’ll call and ask him, myself,” Alex said sharply.

 “Now, hold on, Alex,” Walter interrupted, “I know you feel grateful to Father Salvi, but this is Politics.”

 “No, Walter, this is a mission.”

 There was silence in the room.

 Marian would have normally echoed Walter’s words, but instead, she stood thoughtfully looking out the window at soft, silky clouds etched into a blue, September sky that overlooked Pennsylvania Avenue. Something was different, she knew it, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She turned back to Alex, who was waiting patiently, as he usually did, for her advice. She smiled at him, and then asked the young Jesuit, “Father, do you have any political experience?”

 “I have a Doctorate in Political Science,” he stated proudly.

 Marian nodded her head; Walter moaned and rubbed the back of his neck; and Alex just smiled.

 “Well,” Marian said, “I think Father Salvi would make an excellent addition to the team, if he gets permission.” She then asked, “ Father, would you like to be in politics?”

 “If it’s the Pontiff’s will, I would be privileged to help the Senator with his mission,” Antonio said feeling excited at the prospect. But then said with a note of concern, “Senator, it would be better if I ask the Pontiff myself.”

 “Alright,” Alex conceded, “but I’m not going to give up easily. If Pope Francis is serious about helping, then I’m sure he’ll agree.”

 “There are many ways of helping, Senator,” Antonio said.

Antonio pressed the numbers to the Pontiff’s private telephone, and waited patiently as the overseas numbers clicked into place. He checked his watch it would be ten o’clock at night in Rome. Antonio hoped fervently that Pope Francis was not asleep, or worse, praying. The thought made him feel anxious as he listened to the sound of the phone ringing.

 Finally, “Si.” The voice sounded tired.

 “Holy Father, it’s me, Antonio.”

 “Ah, Antonio, I have been thinking about you.” The Pope’s voice came awake.

 “I hope it’s not too late for Your Holiness?” he asked nervously.

 “No, no, my son. I want to hear every detail.”

 Antonio described, as best he could, his meeting at the Senator’s office.

 “I see.” Pope Francis said and then went quiet for a moment. “Antonio, I want you to ask the Senator if he knows a man by the name of Michael Brand. If he does, tell the Senator that he must get in touch with him immediately. This man, Michael Brand, will be indispensable to the success of the mission.” The Pope paused again. “And then, Antonio, I want you to catch the next plane back to Rome. Come to the rear of the Vatican, the guards will let you in, use the private elevator and come to my quarters.”

 Antonio’s heart sank. “What about the Senator and his request,” Antonio asked solemnly.

 “I have another assignment for you, Antonio.” The Pope had heard the disappointment in Antonio’s voice. “Then we’ll discuss your involvement with the Artemis Campaign,” he said evenly.

 “Can I ask where I am to go?”

 “You can not,” the Pope said emphatically. “When you arrive in Rome, you are to come to my quarters immediately, regardless of the time. Understand?”

 “Yes, Holy Father, I understand,” Antonio replied quietly.

 Antonio held the phone in his hand long after the line went silent. The day’s excitement drained from his body. He tried, however, to take some small solace in the fact that the Pope, actually, hadn’t said no to his working with the Senator.

 Strangely, without any conscious effort, Antonio’s mind began to flood with questions that cascaded out: What was really going on? Why had he been sworn to secrecy? Why had the Pope wanted him to meet with a man, that even the Pope, himself, did not know? What was the true meaning of this strange message that he had been ordered to deliver, and to such a powerful man at that? And more importantly, why had he been chosen to be the Holy Father’s personal emissary?

 Antonio carefully replaced the receiver into its cradle, and then suddenly, felt a shiver of fear.

After talking with Antonio, Pope Francis walked slowly into his private chapel. He couldn’t tell Antonio that the Senator had been right when he wanted to call his mission a Holy War. There was going to be much blood shed; both the innocent and the guilty would be slaughtered. He dropped to his knees, clasping the rosary tightly in his hands, and wept bitterly. He then prayed that the end would come swiftly.

Before leaving for the airport, Antonio placed a call to Senator Artemis. “Senator,” Antonio began, “I have spoken with the Pontiff, and I am to return to the Vatican immediately. He has another assignment for me.”

 “Did you explain to the Pope that I need your help?” the Senator asked vigorously.

 “Yes, Senator, I did. He also instructed me to ask you if you know a man by the name of Michael Brand?”

 Alex thought for a moment, trying to place the name. “Yes. I met him once, about two years ago. He’s a political consultant. But, tell me, Father, how does the Pope know such a man like this?”

 “I don’t think he does, Senator. But he said that this man would be indispensable to your mission.”

 “I’ll call him,” Alex said reluctantly.

 “The Holy Father said it was urgent,” Antonio said emphasizing the Pope’s wishes.

 “I’ll call him right after I hang up. Okay? Now, what about you helping me?”

 “The Pope said we would discuss it after my next assignment.”

 “I’ll call him,” Alex said adamantly.

 “Please, Senator, do not call him,” Antonio pleaded. “I’ll be in touch with you after I complete my new assignment.”

 “I told you, I’m not going to give up easily.”

 “Thank you, Senator, but if it’s meant to be, it will be. You must get in touch with this Michael Brand. He will help you.”

 “Alright, Father.” Alex let out a long sigh. “Oh, and Father, thank you for everything. And thank Pope Francis for sending you, and his message,” Alex said genuinely. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

Marian walked into Alex’s office with an armful of files, followed by Walter Baker carrying a similar load. “I think these are all the files from the last campaign,” Marian said as she and Walter dropped the stacks of folders on the coffee table.

 Alex ignored the files. “Good, I’m glad both of you are here. Walter, get me Michael Brand’s phone number,” he ordered.

 “You mean that sleazy political hack that swaggers around like he knows something that the rest of us dummies are supposed to be too stupid to understand?” Walter said disgusted at the thought.

 “Why do you want to talk to him?” Marian asked puzzled.

 “You wouldn’t believe it, if I told you.”

 “Try me,” she said.

 “Yeah, I’d like to know, too,” Walter added.

 Alex leaned back in his chair. “I just talked with Father Salvi, he’s leaving for the Vatican.”

 “Good,” Walter said.

 Alex frowned at him. “You know, Walter, sometimes you should give people the benefit of the doubt. I remember when I first met you...”

 Walter stopped him with a wave of his arm. “Alright, Senator, I get the picture,” he said not wanting to be reminded of how no one would even talk to him when he first came to the Hill.

 “What’s Father Salvi’s going home have to do with calling this Brand character?” Marian asked. “Or, did I miss something?”

 “As I was saying, before Walter went sideways...” Alex took a deep breath. “It seems that Pope Francis had another message for me. This Michael Brand, according to Pope Francis, is supposed to be indispensable in helping me with my mission. And I’m to get in touch with him immediately.”

 “You’re right, I don’t believe it,” Marian said and collapsed onto the sofa.

 “Who’s running this thing anyway? You, us, the Pope, Father Salvi?” Walter asked exasperated.

 “I know this all sounds nutty. Messages from a Pope I never met, a request to meet with a man I can’t stand. But,” Alex said pointedly, “you have to admit that his message about a mission brought me back from certain disaster. And,” Alex continued thoughtfully, “you know that I can’t let Alicia’s death...” Alex caught himself. “I mean, for Christ sakes, there are young people out there,” Alex said pointing out the window, “dying every day from drugs, while we go on with business as usual. Every politician on the Hill, including the President, has closed his or her eyes to the truth. No! I can’t let drugs and drug dealers keep on taking innocent lives. Marian, I know, I can do something about it, and I will. And if this Michael Brand can help, then I need him...Now, please Walter, go get his number,” Alex ended softly.

 “Alright, you’re the boss. Let me check my in my office, and I’ll get right back to you,” Walter said and left the room.

 Marian, feeling confused again, just stared at her husband. She didn’t know if he was going crazy, or just obsessed. Whatever it was she was going to find out which. “Alex, you know I love you...”

 “Marian,” Alex interrupted her gently, “whenever you start that way, I know what’s coming. I know, you’ve got to be thinking I’ve lost my mind, but right now, I need you to believe in me, trust me, like you used to. I’m asking you to believe in me again. I can’t do this without you,” Alex pleaded.

 Marian could feel her husband’s pain and anger as he spoke. Maybe, it was really her own hurt and anger that she had to deal with. Maybe, Alex was the only sane person around with enough guts to do something about these awful drugs that took her daughter’s life, and left her with an unending pain.

 Alex walked over to her and sat down next to her and put his arms around her. She had started to cry without even knowing it.

 “We’ve got to do this, Marian,” he said lovingly, wiping the tears away gently with his fingers. “You know we do…for ourselves, for Alicia, for all the kids out there. How many more young, innocent lives are we going to lose before someone does something?”

 “It seems so impossible, Alex. What can we really do? Maybe, we can put a crimp into the drug trade, for a while. But, in the end, it’ll just keep on going. They’re too powerful, Alex. They’ve got too much money, too much power, and too many guns. If you start closing in on them, they’ll kill you. I can’t lose...” Marian couldn’t say the words, and her tears just wouldn’t stop.

 Walter walked in, and then immediately walked out without saying a word, leaving Michael Brand’s number on the desk.

 “We’ve got resources, Marian,” Alex said, trying to calm her fears. “I’ve got access to the Army, Navy, Air Force, hell, I’ve got a whole damn Marine Corp.”

 “You’re going to start a war, Alex,” she said through her tears.

 “Your damn right, I am.”

 “And what about all the young lives that will be lost fighting your war?”

 Alex had no answer. Even if he had, it wasn’t the right time. So, he just held her as she clung to him, weeping.

 

 End of Chapter 2

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