Thus, all of the experts had agreed, secular and religious, what the LINK-angels did, no human could duplicate. The LINK-angels were what they claimed to be – a sign from God.
"Some people might say what you're suggesting is heresy," I told Michael.
"That's why I need you. You're already excommunicated. The Pope can't threaten you." Michael leaned against the windowpane and gave me a hard stare. "Besides, if Letourneau isn't the Second Coming, it's hardly heresy. Some might even consider a hack like that God's work. Anyway, why do you care so much about heresy?"
"I care. All right? I happen to care a lot. Despite what people say about me on the LINK, I don't take this sentence lightly. I lost my job." My fingers stroked the implant with an almost feverish desperation. "More than that, I lost a friend."
"Right ... Daniel."
I wasn't surprised that Michael knew about my personal history. I had a fan-run site somewhere on the LINK, where people kept track of all my comings and goings. I was surprised at how much hearing that name out loud hurt.
"I apologize," Michael said. He dropped his gaze and stared at his chest.
"Forget about it." I shrugged. With some effort, I halted the rhythmical rubbing. To give my hands something else to do, I shuffled though the clippings and printouts on my desk. I couldn't look at Michael as I continued, "The LINK-angels are more untouchable than the Mafia, and they've picked Letourneau. The election is sewn up and people are roasting 'heretics' wherever they find them. A person can't even get a dissenting opinion printed in the Times these days without retribution." Thinking of Mrs. Rosenstone, I frowned and gestured at my monitor to empathize my point. "No. I'm truly sorry for whatever's happening to you or to whomever you represent, but count me out. I tried to go up against the New Right before and I lost ... lost a lot more than I was willing to sacrifice."
"I'm certain Daniel's soul is clean," I heard him whisper.
Something in his voice made me search out his eyes. "Clean?" I repeated, "Clean of what?"
"Sin," he said simply.
I shook my head slowly. "I wish I could be so certain, big guy."
"So do I." His voice sounded heavy with defeat. Boots scuffed against the floor, as he turned to leave. "If you reconsider, my offer still stands."
I didn't look up from the clutter on my desk. In my attempt to straighten up the mess, I'd unearthed the article about Danny's trial. Damn filing system. Between my trembling fingers read the headline: "COP CONVICTED IN POPE'S MURDER." Despite everything, I should never have turned him in like that – never, I thought desperately.
"For him then," came Michael's voice at the door, startling me.
"What?" I quickly shoved the article facedown under a coffee cup. I couldn't stand the sight of Danny's accusing face. "What did you say?"
"If not for me, then take my case for him. It would clear your conscience."
"What makes you think it's my conscience that needs clearing?"
"Daniel is an innocent man."
"Everyone saw him shoot the Pope, Michael. Daniel's guilty. That case was closed a year ago. I want to leave it behind me."
"But can you?" Michael's eyes held me tightly, and my breathing became shallow.
My smile froze, and the room seemed suddenly smaller. Michael's eyes, with their molten passion, felt only inches away. I took in a deep breath to steady myself. I closed my eyes, not letting Michael's gaze drag me deeper into something I didn't want to do. 'I'm not the hero you're looking for. I can't fight anymore. I'm spent."
Michael's hand gripped the doorknob. He looked out into the hallway. "Just consider my offer, would you?"
"I'm not taking your case, not for any price." It was a lie, but it was what a smart woman would say. After all, I knew nothing about Michael. This whole offer to reconnect me to the LINK could be some elaborate sting to try to entrap me into doing something really stupid. I looked up into Michael's eyes, which still watched me from the door. I wanted to trust those calm, gray eyes, but I shook my head.
When he turned to leave, I knew my false bravado didn't really matter. For all intents and purposes, I was already on the case. I had to find out more about Michael and why he wanted the LINK-angels discredited. I had to know what he knew about Daniel. I'd take this job; I had to.
Excerpt from the NY Times, April 2075
COP KILLS POPE
Daniel Fitzpatrick, 33, of the New York Police Department was arrested today in connection with the shooting of Pope Innocent the XIV.
Ironically, Detective Fitzpatrick had volunteered to serve as crowd protection along the Pope's parade route. Witnesses on the scene reported that when the Pope's parade came through the pedestrian tunnel on the 50th level Broadway, Fitzpatrick moved in closely to calmly address one of the Swiss Guard, then pulled out his service pistol and shot the Pope dead. Fitzpatrick was wrestled to the ground immediately and taken into custody, [hot-link here for video and/or virtual reality replay]
The Swiss Guard who was approached by Fitzpatrick said, "I feel completely responsible, but I was fooled by the uniform. The police are supposed to be the good guys, right?" When asked what Fitzpatrick had said to the Guard, he replied, "Nothing, really. He was pointing out Muslim troublemakers in the crowd. We took him seriously, but I guess it was meant as a distraction."
However, police confirmed that Muslim extremists were spotted in the crowd. According to sources on the scene, the police had, indeed, requested via LINK that Fitzpatrick verbally inform the Swiss Guard of the possible danger, since, due to tradition, the Guard is not LINKed.
Police are suggesting that perhaps Fitzpatrick took advantage of a sudden possibility to get close to the Pope, and that the murder, in fact, was not premeditated.
Yet, according to inside sources, Fitzpatrick had been acting strangely before today's events. "If you ask me," said an undisclosed source, "It was only a matter of time. He was a Protestant, you know. He was always going on about what would happen if the President made an alliance with Christendom." Though characterized by many as easygoing, inside sources said Fitzpatrick had been having angry outbursts. One report said, though no formal charges were made, Fitzpatrick might have attempted sexual assault on his partner mere days before shooting the Pope.
Rabbi-Mayor Klien demanded to know why the police officers assigned to the Pope's parade route had not been tested psychologically. To this accusation, Captain Allaire Morgan of the 10th precinct had no comment. The FBI has been called in to investigate this incident.
Chapter 2
The slam of the door echoed in my mind like the clang of bars closing a prison cell. I picked up the hard copy of the article from underneath the coffee cup and smoothed out the edges. The accompanying item about my excommunication showed a picture of me in a small box in the corner. I shook my head sadly. That was probably my least ladylike moment. The photo was a scan of the moment they announced the Pope's murder, and my hair was a mess despite the short cut I wear, blond hair twisted this way and that like a rat's nest. I hated that picture; I looked like a crazy woman. Somehow the photo had made the most of my least attractive features. My pug nose seemed even wider, and my lips were far too thin and pale.
I carefully folded up the article and wedged it under the desk blotter. My fingers grazed the letters Daniel had sent me from prison. Like so much in my office, I should have thrown them out months ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt guilty, I suppose, because I'd never opened them. I reached for them now, thinking I should finally read them. The envelopes were thin. The paper in my hands felt smooth. The computer-printed number with the address New Jersey State Penitentiary sent a chill down my spine. Danny always used to joke about hating New Jersey. I thought it was the final cruel twist of fate that he'd been sent there of all places.