Christopher shook his head, trying not to make too much of it. "She's not a secretary, she's an administrative assistant," he said. "She wanted a job. And I needed an administrative assistant."
"Yeah, but the president's daughter?"
"It was Secretary Milner's idea." Decker's expression requested an explanation. "Secretary Milner was here on some business shortly after I became Director-General of FAO. He and the president are old friends. I just happened to mention to him in passing that I needed to find an administrative assistant."
"I don't suppose it's hurt your relationship with the Italian government any," Decker said.
"No, things have been very cordial."
Christopher's office was spacious and luxuriously decorated and furnished. On the walls were pictures of Christopher with several members of the United Nations Security Council; numerous Italian government officials including the Italian Prime Minister, the Italian Ambassador to the U.N., and the Italian President; and with leaders of the Roman Catholic Church, including three cardinals. Most prominent in the room were two pictures displayed side by side, one of Christopher with Secretary-General Jon Hansen, and the other of Christopher with Robert Milner and the Pope. "You've been a very busy boy," Decker commented as he scanned the photos.
"To tell you the truth, most of this has been Secretary Milner's doing. He's been here four or five times a year since I've been FAO Director-General," Christopher said. Milner, now ninety, seemingly had not aged a day since the transfusion of Christopher's blood eight years before. If anything, he seemed younger, far younger. "I had no idea Secretary Milner had so much business in Italy."
"Hmm, neither did I," Decker responded. Decker was certain that Milner's frequent trips were not a coincidence. He was obviously doing everything he could to advance Christopher's position with those in power in Italy. It was not that Decker objected in any way; still, there was a mystery here. He didn't have long to think about it, though. His eye was caught by a familiar face in another picture of Christopher with a very distinguished man in front of the Coliseum. "When was David Bragford here?" Decker asked.
"Oh, that was last summer. He was here with Secretary Milner for a meeting of world bankers." At that moment Maria announced Jack Redmond's arrival.
"All hail the Prince of Rome," Redmond said, addressing Christopher and bowing in mock obeisance as he came in.
Decker had no idea what prompted Jack's greeting but assumed it to be a joke; the look of mild annoyance on Christopher's face indicated there was more to it than that. "Okay, I'll bite," Decker said. "What's going on? What's this 'Prince of Rome' stuff?"
"Haven't you seen last week's issue of Epoca?" Jack asked Decker, referring to the Italian magazine that is the equivalent of Time or Newsweek.
"No," Decker answered, looking back and forth from Jack to Christopher, hoping for an answer.
"Here," Jack said, as he opened his briefcase and handed the Italian magazine to Decker. On the cover was a very complimentary picture of Christopher with the words "Christopher Goodman, Il Trentenne, Principe di Roma" boldly displayed underneath.
Decker examined the photo for a moment and then asked for a translation of the caption. Christopher just sat silently, looking a little embarrassed, as Jack answered. "It says, 'Christopher Goodman, the 30-Year-Old Prince of Rome.'" Decker looked proud enough to burst. He couldn't read a word of Italian but he quickly flipped through the magazine trying to find the accompanying article. "Will somebody please tell me what this is all about?" he asked impatiently.
"It seems our boy Christopher has made quite a name for himself around these parts." Jack's voice was laden with an exaggerated Cajun accent – something he did whenever he wanted to do a little friendly ribbing.
"It's nothing," Christopher protested. "The editor o fthe magazine came up with that to insult the Primo Ministro della Repubblica. Uh, the prime minister," he added in translation. "They've had a running battle for months. Apparently the people at Epoca thought that it would serve their purposes to build me up while tearing down the Primo Ministro. The article right after the one about me calls the Primo Ministro a useless, ineffective bore." Decker flipped to the article about the Prime Minister and found a most unflattering picture of the man. He wondered if the photo had been altered to make him look so bad.
"Me thinks the prince doth protest too much," Jack said, intentionally misquoting Hamlet.
"I just think the whole thing is a little silly. I called the Prime Minister as soon as I saw the article and let him know that I had no idea they were going to use the story as they did. Fortunately, we've had the opportunity to establish a very affable relationship over the past several years. He took the whole thing very well. Now, could we please get some work done?"
"Okay, okay," Jack said, still joking, "I'll behave."
"Wait a second," interrupted Decker. "I want a copy of this and an English translation."
"You guys make it awfully hard to be modest," Christopher protested.
"Listen," said Jack Redmond, donning his political advisor's hat, "you can be damned proud of that article. It's not often that a U.N. official other than Hansen gets that type of recognition in the press. I mean, after all – and not to belittle your job – you are just a bureaucrat. Normally that means you do your job behind the scenes and no one ever notices, except possibly other bureaucrats. From what I saw in that magazine you've done an outstanding job, not only as a bureaucrat, but as a representative ofthe United Nations to the people of Italy. You keep playing your cards right and there'll be no stopping you."
Christopher accepted the compliment graciously. Decker was too busy smiling to add anything.
"Oh, and speaking of the people of Italy," Jack continued, "the article says you're an Italian citizen. Whose idea was that?"
Decker was sure he knew the answer. "Secretary Milner's," Christopher answered. "He recommended it back when I first took over FAO. He thought it would be popular with the Italian people. With the liberalization of citizenship requirements over the past ten years, it only required a ninety day residency before I could apply. I've been an Italian citizen for nearly five years now. It's really just a symbolic thing."
Jack Redmond nodded approvingly. "Like I said, there'll be no stopping you."
"Now, can we please get started on this?" Christopher pleaded.
"Not quite so fast. There's one other thing in the article that Decker might find interesting." Christopher sat down, folded his hands and looked up at the ceiling. It was useless to try to stop Jack when he was on a roll. "According to the article, you and the Italian President's daughter are quite an item. Rumors are that marriage may be in your future."
"What?!" Decker said. "You and Maria?!"
"No!" Christopher answered quickly. "They're talking about his oldest daughter, Tina."
"Wait a second," Jack interrupted, "who's Maria?"
"Nobody!" Christopher blurted before Decker could answer and thereby give Jack even more to speculate about. "Look, there's nothing to that business. Tina and I are just friends. I needed a date for a few political functions and so we went together. That's all there is to it."
It took a while longer, but the subject finally got around to agricultural quotas. The meeting went on well into the evening and had to be continued on the flight to Pakistan where they were to meet with Secretary-General Hansen and his party.
Chapter 20
Through a Glass Darkly
Wednesday, July 3,2019 – Sahiwai, Pakistan
A dark figure moved quickly along the dry river bed, checking each low-lying area for any sign of water. If he did not find it soon, death would surely overtake him as it had all the others. Up ahead, a tree, still green despite the brown that surrounded it, gave shade to the end of his search: a small pool of water. It was there; he knew it was. He could smell it. Running to it, he put his face down to the water and drank until he was satisfied. He would stay here until the water was gone or hunger drove him on. It was possible that the water might draw some small animal he could eat, but he couldn't wait for food to come to him. He would have to scout out the area and hope for the best.