Chapter Four
City Hall, Seattle
This chapter and all chapters of this work should be considered as explicit content: rough language, depictions of open sexual activity, and disturbing conduct.
Vincent Biaggi
The tectonic plates of my life were in motion. No seismic or volcanic activity as yet, but that was all on the way. The Archbishop had approved my plans for a sabbatical and coverage of my duties while I was gone, but after giving his assent, he had said to me, "You will not long be with us as a humble parish priest, Father Biaggi." He had smiled and patted my hand then bade me take my leave.
The way God works always amazes me. I was going on a six-month world tour with Darnell Cole - my best friend. The man who caused my father's death was now my best friend, and it was completely right. Only through God and the power of forgiveness.
The look on Darnell's face when I said "I know exactly who you are, and I already forgave you" was priceless. I chuckled again....
His gaze jumped to my face and conveyed "what the eff?" He didn't have to say the words.
I read that and all the other questions in his face. "I am from Seattle, like you. You run Thugz Mansion. Eight years ago, you were sentenced to prison for your part in a hacking scheme. You coerced employees to place malicious programs on their companies' servers by kidnapping their loved ones."
Darnell knew exactly what I was talking about. He had done four years time, and been richly rewarded by the bosses when he got out. It was the operation that had earned him his promotion off the streets and into the boardrooms. A hostage - a seven-year-old girl - had died when she was struck by a car trying to run away from his henchmen. The state's attorney had wanted desperately to charge all of them with murder, but knew it wouldn’t stick. After two years of legal skirmishing, Darnell had accepted a plea from the prosecutor for twenty years with twelve suspended. Good behavior had reduced his eight years to four.
"My father was the head of data security at the last company you hit. He was good friends with one of the employees who was extorted. The daughter you kidnapped was my little brother's friend from school. My little brother saw you snatch her. My father lost his job because of the theft." He stared off in the direction of the altar, a sad, thin smile on his lips. Neither of us spoke. The chanting stopped. A man coughed. A heavy door banged against a stone lintel at the other end of the church. The old woman departed. One by one, the small candles clustered by the small shrines blinked out.
"How did that make you a priest?" Darnell finally asked.
"I walked into St. Jerome about two weeks after you got out of prison, burning with rage. Four years? You were responsible for two deaths! A little girl! And my father! From the moment I heard you were getting out, I could not stop thinking about making you pay for ruining my family. Making everybody pay. I took a lot of walks. One day, while arguing with myself over whether I should do something, I found myself in front of the Cathedral. I remembered how I used to like going inside when I was a kid, with the incense, and the stained glass windows and candles, and the way the sound echoed off the stone and the high ceiling. So I went inside.
"They were having choir practice. I sat in a pew very much like this one, and gave myself over to the sounds and smells. I felt a peaceful presence and a clarity of mind, and I just realized I didn't want to be angry and full of hatred anymore. There were more important things going on in the world than my private little tragedy. The Pope had just come to the States, and had given speeches to huge crowds that had excited in me the hope that change might be possible.
"The Pope was crusading against men who put money ahead of people, men who did not care about the rest of nature or the future, men who would gladly kill and ruin lives to promote their own immortality. You know," and I looked at him with an ironic smile, "men like you. I decided to join the Pope's fight, and his priests are his soldiers. So I joined up...."
"Councilor Lee, with all due respect," Councilor Harris was saying with his voice making clear that he didn't think much respect was due, "'Imperialism' and 'international justice' are not the concerns of this Council. Should we not focus our attention and resources on the many problems of this City rather than picking a fight with our nation's government?"
"That's like saying a person who believes her city is engaged in cruel and disastrous policies should not get involved because her family has needs. We are citizens of this nation and have an obligation to stand up for what we believe is right." Talia knew her resolution condemning American imperialism and committing the city government to not contribute in any way would not pass even though "over 70% of Seattle citizens oppose American military actions and over 85% want the United States to stop supporting autocratic regimes," as she was just then telling the Council. Her goal was to put the Capitalist members of Council on the defensive and make the Liberals uncomfortable opposing the resolution she was about to introduce. Talia thought strategically like the military person she used to be, and still was in many respects.
I was here for moral support. Talia and I had been friends since middle school when she had jumped in to rescue me from a bully and his minions. Our friendship had grown into high school, and when my dad lost his job then committed suicide, Talia had gotten me through it. She had brought me into her family, and her parents had taken guardianship.
Talia was a year ahead of me. She had gone to University of Washington a year before I went to community college. By the time I joined her at UW, she was in ROTC. We had fought about it. I challenged her that the military was the opposite of everything we believed in and stood for, but a Middle East dictator had just bombed his neighbor and the United States was sending in troops to defend the victim. "What kind of world will this be if we don't stand up to bullies? I have to do something. Those people can't protect themselves!" she had argued. "This kind of world," I had retorted, "and we are the bullies." She had pivoted neatly to "how else am I supposed to pay for college? My family can't give me any advantages! What other way do I have?" she had yelled at me.
But that was nothing compared to the blowout when I went into the seminary. "ARE YOU CRAZY?! HOW CAN YOU THROW YOUR LIFE AWAY LIKE THAT?!" she had raged at me by holo. "This is my calling," I had responded and she had retorted that "there are plenty of ways to serve God without making yourself a eunuch!" After more yelling she had whispered, "How could you?" then ended the transmission. She did not speak to me for two years. Her parents supported me and grieved our estrangement. It only ended when her parents lied to both of us and engineered a family Christmas, then exercised all their moral authority over her to make her stay until we had talked it out.
By this time I was a priest and she was out of the military, struggling with debilitating PTSD and entombed in a crippling depression from utter disillusionment. The things she had seen and done while in theater in the Middle East had robbed her of her belief in her country, and her faith in God. "The things we've done over there, Vinnie." She had shuddered, looked at me with bleak eyes. "They're horrible. We are not good people." She had refused to talk about it any more.
She began to come out of her depression when she got involved in social issues. I worked with her for months, first trying to get her to share her current experiences with me and take advantage of the VA's counseling services. She eventually began to share her feelings and nightmares with me, and after almost six months of gentle hounding, she agreed to go see a counselor. He got her into a group. It helped.
With the gentle encouragement of myself and her counselor - I only made the mistake of calling him her "therapist" once - she organized her support group into the local chapter of a growing national anti-imperialist veterans group. It was a group that pressured local governments to condemn imperialist actions by the national government and divest themselves from industries that supported or profited from imperialism. Coalition-building with other local groups led her to run for City Council from the district in which she and I grew up - and Darnell, whose endorsement had virtually guaranteed her victory. Now here she was: damaged, scarred, but indomitable and fighting for Good. I was incredibly proud of her - and inspired by her.
"Councilors, you now have before you a copy of the Humanitarian City Resolution. I hereby introduce this Resolution for consideration. Adopting this Resolution will make Seattle a world leader in humanitarian treatment of refugees and immigrants. We are deprived of the authority to make them citizens because only the sovereign power can do that, but we can create a legal status that affords them all the rights and responsibilities of citizens of this City."
I had helped her draft it - with an assist from her friend and mentor Empress Catherine - and persuaded the archbishop to let the Archdiocese support the measure as being inherently Christian. I was here as the Archdiocese's representative, but not to speak. I would speak from my pulpit on Sunday. Addressing my prosperous congregation would have more impact than talking to these politicians. The Councilors would pay far more attention to the members of my congregation than they would to me.
I would also be telling the congregation about my upcoming sabbatical and that an exciting new priest would be covering for me. I had met him during a visit to my old seminary and recruited him to our Archdiocese. I had introduced him to the Archbishop, who had offered him one of the outlying mission churches. I think the Archbishop saw him as my successor when I moved on to "greater things," as the Archbishop called it.
For now, those "greater things" were my trip around the world with Darnell. Planning was well underway. Darnell had performances lined up in Osaka, Seoul, Shanghai, Macau, Hanoi, Singapore, Rangoon, and was in negotiations in several more cities in India, the Mediterranean region, western Africa, Europe, Brazil and finally in Mexico. It was a crazy tour, but unbelievably exciting. We were departing in a week.
"Helllloooooo, Vincent," a waving hand in front of my face sang out. I focused on it, then the female face behind it grinning. Talia. "There you are," she said when she saw me focus on her. "The trip doesn't start for a week so you can stay with me until then," she added archly, and we both laughed. I stood and we hugged.
She looked triumphant. "Sorry I spaced out there. So, it looks like you are pleased with how it went."
She nodded, then linked her arm in mine and led me from the chamber. "I am. The Council didn't vote on my resolution, but I didn't expect it to. It's a huge measure with enormous implications, so I expected a study and further debate." I nodded: that made sense. We stepped out onto the platform in front of City Hall and waited for a car to slide to the curb. "We appointed a committee to study it and report back at the next meeting." I frowned. That sounded an awful lot like.... "I know what you're thinking," she said, "but it's not like that. Even if we wanted to adopt the resolution tonight it would have been a bad move. We need to do our due diligence, and the makeup of the committee is as good as I could have wanted."
A car pulled up as she was explaining. The rear passenger door whooshed open almost before the car came to a stop, and snicked shut as soon as we had settled into the seat. By the time she finished talking, it had pulled out into traffic and was carrying us off to... "where are we going?"
She laughed. "I am taking you to my place to celebrate."
I arched an eyebrow at that. Talia had made no secret of her attraction to me and often joked that it was her mission in life to make me fall. I never thought it was completely humor. "What are we celebrating?"
"That you will have to find out when we get there." She molded to my side with her head laying on top of my shoulder. I could tell she was afraid. She was going to have nightmares tonight.