Chapter 11: Fall of the peacemakers
Iscariot HQ, Rome, September 12th, 2016
If he kept on pacing like that, the floor would just split open, Lisa thought. She had her legs drawn to her chest on her usual place on the windowsill and watched the director venting his rage at Anderson. The huge paladin was sitting on one of the chairs, silently enduring the scolding.
"This is the second time you brought us to the edge of an international incident!", Enrico barked at him. "Do you have any idea what would have happened?! A fight in public, on enemy territory, no – directly in a British museum with surveillance cameras everywhere! Can you imagine where that would put us?!"
Lisa didn't doubt Anderson could very well imagine that, even despite not saying so. Enrico wouldn't pay attention to a word he said now anyway. He needed to cool off before anyone could talk to him again. He didn't need to bite back on anything. There was nobody around to hear they had screwed up. Again.
"Just because of that damned vampire!" Enrico was shaking so bad it seemed he might just fall to pieces right there. Lisa had the sudden urge to hug him. Anderson didn't argue. Not this time. There was nothing to argue about.
Enrico was right.
"We came there for making peace about this Badrick thing," Enrico went on. "Oh wait, you caused that, too."
"On your orders!", Lisa interrupted. Now he was getting unfair again. Enrico shot her an annoyed glance, but at least he had bothered to listen.
"Whatever. That's not the point. We wanted to calm the situation before we have a scandal. And what do you do? Almost run headlong into a fight with this monster! Were you even listening? I told you to wait outside for a reason!"
"She held ae gun tae yer head!", Anderson protested weakly.
"The vampire is answering to Lady Hellsing's commands. I was fine."
"Aye, because look hou guid it listened tae her," the paladin murmured.
"I was fine," Enrico repeated. He had waited two days to arrange this little meeting. Partially because he wanted anyone he didn't trust with his life (meaning they would be no spies for Cornelius or Millennium) to be away from base. And mostly because he wanted to be calm when recapitulating the meeting. That had proven to be useless after thirty seconds.
"Imagine- Just use your head", for once, he wanted to say, but didn't in the end, catching Lisa's glare, "Caitlyn. Hellsing." He added the last name almost hastily. "We were lucky, you know that? She was patient, she was a lot less hostile than I expected, she was-" lovely, his mind proposed. He could stop himself from saying it in the last moment.
This had to stop. He not only pushed the thought aside. He ripped it to pieces and stomped it into the dust only to find the echo still stuck in his head.
"Anyway, this was our easy way out of a difficult situation. She didn't want this fight, but she was also not desperate enough to draw straws. She could have just refused the deal - " He broke off. "I won't go on about what might have happened," he said slowly, walking to his chair, but not sitting down yet. Calm down. Everything went well. Everything concerning the deal, at least.
"Screwing this up will cost all of our heads and Iscariot as a whole. You know how much people like Cornelius hate us. Why in the world didn't you wait outside?"
There was a brief silence, only broken by the uncomfortable rustling of a coat. Then, quietly: "Ah got bored."
Enrico fell heavily on his chair. "You got bored?", he asked. He didn't get the meaning of those words. "You got bored," he repeated slowly.
"Thought we should ken aboot hou the heathens think. And it wis ae nice museum. I'd like tae show it tae the orphanage kids."
Enrico wasn't sure if he would start laughing, crying or shouting in the matter of a few seconds. It all seemed equally possible. This was a bad joke. This was hilarious. Of all people Anderson pulled such a stunt? The man that had taught him about the importance of sharing and patience?
Lisa left her spot on the window to place a hand on her brother's shoulder. She tightened her grip to stop him from shaking. Enrico just stared into space for several seconds. "Ah," he finally said. Silence. Then: "I see." Another silence. "You're heading back to the orphanage, right?"
"Aye," Anderson replied carefully.
Enrico flicked against two envelopes lying on his table. "Take that to the Chaos Girls and Camille, when you're already at it." Anderson took that as the sign to leave.
"Goodbye. God bless you."
"Amen," Enrico said. His eyes were already absent again. Anderson took a last glance at the director of Section XIII before he closed the door behind him.
There was a long silence while Anderson walked down the hallway and left. Enrico slammed his hand on the table once again, somewhat easing the pressure. He was still trembling like in a fever. "Idiot!", he hissed. "Sometimes I think I could as well be talking to a wall!" Lisa didn't move and also didn't let go. This would go on for a while and that was good.
Only it wasn't. Enrico leaned back, sighing and taking her hand. "Thanks. For saving the day in Britain. And for this. ...You think I'm being too hard on him?"
She laid her arms around his neck from behind and leaned on the chair's backrest. "No, this time you were right. Anderson shouldn't have charged at the vampire. Though you've got to admit Badrick was your order."
He rubbed his temples. "Yes. I know. And by now I wish I had just ignored that incident."
"Which could mean Cornelius – pardon my French – up our asses," Lisa said.
Another heavy sigh. Sometimes it sounded like he was carrying the whole church all alone. Maybe it was not that far off. Iscariot was the secret legion that got all the shit and was punished for doing the dirty jobs in already dirty politics in the end. It was unfair.
"Did you look into the attack already?"
"No," he said after a moment of hesitation. Lisa didn't even ask. He had been working on this stupid sword for days. What was he planning with that anyway? Lisa just could not imagine him fighting with this sword. Or fighting at all. Imagining Enrico in the front line was... unsettling.
"What about this second vampire that was with her?", she asked.
"What second vampire?"
Lisa frowned. "The boy. Black hair, bit smaller than me, slender, vest and tie... no?"
This time, Enrico actually made an effort to control his voice. He didn't want to shout at his sister. "We were hearing all sorts of rumors about her having two pet monsters. I actually thought this to be ridiculous. But looks like I was wrong." Pause. "And you tell me this now?!" So much for not shouting. Lisa stepped back when he jumped to his feet.
"I actually thought you saw him," she replied, biting back on her own anger. "Glowing red eyes are not exactly easy to overlook. He didn't seem to plan on stepping in. He pointed out the door to the control room, actually."
"So Lady Hellsing has another pet that's a bit better trained." Enrico leaned on the table, the white bandage seeming suddenly very bright against his skin. Walter. The guy Caitlyn had tried to keep secret. How could he possibly have forgotten about that?
Lisa sat on the desk in front of him, next to where his palm lay on the surface. "When we're already at it, what was that about Caitlyn Hellsing?" They had dropped that topic in London and not taken up again yet. Enrico didn't want to. Of course not. But Lisa was sick of this secrecy. That had never done them any good.
"What about her?", he growled. "I already told you about the conversation."
"Yes. That's not the point. You need to focus. Or at least get your feelings into some kind of order."
His eyes flashed. "I have no idea-"
"Oh, you do! I don't need great observation skills to tell if you are lying. Even to yourself."
"Still no idea. If you want to know, she acted weird, yes. Even for a heathen."
Lisa blinked. That argument was hilarious on so many levels. "Enrico, she was flirting with you."
"Huh?"
She could barely suppress a laugh. Oh God. He really didn't know. Sometimes he still had the maturity of a five-year-old. "Didn't you see that? She was flirting. Looked pretty successful, judging from how you looked at her."
"That kick was unnecessary."
"That kick was just what you needed. You were staring at her like a kid in the zoo. You're a bishop, remember?"
"You're changing the topic!"
"No, you are. You two had a crush on each other the moment you looked in the other's face. I mean, that's natural. You're both handsome, about the same age, similar intelligence..."
He turned away and started for the door. "I have to go. The Holy Father granted me an audience at three and I got to check on something in Section X first." He wanted to get his coat. Lisa blocked the way and grabbed his wrists to stop him. Her dark blue eyes seemed to burn. "I'm sick of this. You're never telling me anything anymore. Not about what the Vatican is planning, about these investigations, not what you are doing. I'm not saying..." She searched for words. "You've got a right for privacy like anyone. But... You're not telling me anything at all. At least stop giving stupid excuses."
Enrico looked at her, trying to get the point of what she was saying. She's acting like a jealous girlfriend.
That was the problem? "Well... You didn't ask."
She let go. "Oh." Men. Mum had been right all along. They just didn't get it. "Well then, do you mind getting a drink and talking about this? I'd love to know what these projects of yours are, for example. I'll try to understand all the technical blabla."
"Of course not. I mean, yes, we can do that and I don't mind. But not now, okay? I can't keep the Holy Father waiting." He put on the long coat and waved her goodbye before jogging down the corridor. He would have to hurry, if he wanted to check into this second vampire. It was astounding how long Caitlyn had been able to hide him.
Lisa just had to understand he was busy. Once this was taken care of, they had more time to talk. He couldn't wait to show her what he had been working on. And demonstrate his progress in fencing. He was by far not good enough to win against any paladin... but he was a bit proud anyway.
Enrico arrived just in time, when the secretary wanted to tell the Holy Father he wasn't there yet. He didn't even give Enrico the time to take off his coat. The man was small, and weasel-like, and had a particular dislike of Section XIII. No wonder, considering all the information they had about him. The room full of paintings and gold had once been threatening. By now Enrico was used to it, but could still feel the power radiating from the Holy Father's throne. It was fitting to the position.
The Holy Father was concealed in shadows. These days he seldom showed himself in public. He was getting old and didn't put up with it as good as he should be. Someday, it would be him, Enrico Maxwell, sitting up there, holding the world in his hands.
"My dear Maxwell. It is good to see you," the Holy Father said. He motioned the secretary out of the room and sighed. It was quiet until the doors had slammed shut. "You can never be too careful these days."
Enrico knelt down and bowed his head. "Indeed, Holy Father." God, was it always that hot in here?
The Pope chuckled. "Well, then. How is the matter progressing?"
Enrico described what they knew about both Hellsing and Millennium. He had finally looked into Caitlyn Hellsing and Hellsing in general. Astounding enough, he had never found a trace of evidence about any vampires working for them. "Walter" turned out to be the family butler, born in 1930 and working for them almost as long. He would be a good deal over 80 now. Unless he was the vampire Lisa had told him about. But until he knew more about this, the Holy Father didn't need to be bothered.
"As far as we know, Hellsing isn't well acquainted with the other members of the Convention of 12. Caitlyn Hellsing is generally seen as too young and unsuited for her post. So far, she has been able to fend off any attempt to take over Hellsing."
"She is a force to be reckoned with, then?"
"Yes, Holy Father. She is quite dangerous, I believe. Especially having this vampire at her disposal. It already destroyed most of Millennium in World War Two, as you very well know, your Holiness." How much had he actually expected the vampire to listen to Caitlyn's orders? Not so much as he would have liked. "She has the full support of the queen, which explains the huge scope granted for her work. Rumor has it, Lady Hellsing is quite independent in mind and by far not as conservative as the others." He couldn't give more hints at the role he intended Caitlyn to play. Maybe, just maybe, she had a chance at survival. He had everything laid out. The Holy Father only needed to ask for it.
"And Millennium?", the Pope asked.
"We have reason to believe they are only interested in Hellsing and said Vladimira."
"Vladimira? Bishop Cornelius tells me the vampire is called Alucard."
Enrico suppressed a smile. Take that, Cornelius. "That is correct. However, her actual name is Vladimira. Obviously, Alucard is only a given name from the past. But seeing how well England is concealing their affairs, there is no way Section VIII could know about this."
"You are protecting Section VIII? That is noble, seeing your responsibilities clash now and then."
"We are all just servants of the Lord."
Another chuckle. "Well said, Bishop. To conclude, Millennium will most likely target Britain. Were we able to track them down already?"
"Unfortunately, this is not the case yet. I'm sure the agents of John are working on it. With respect, Holy Father, how do you plan to react to this threat?"
"We seem to have no choice. Bitter enemies trapped in the same boat. Are you sure about your judgment of Hellsing?"
The Holy Father had never asked something twice. This couldn't be good. "Absolutely, Holy Father. The cooperation will be worthwhile once the enemy has revealed itself." The plan was as simple as effective. They would finally reclaim what belonged to them.
"You in Section XIII go through so much. Shouldering the blame for this thing seventy years ago... forced to deal with nothing but dirty business," the Holy Father sighed.
"You don't need to be so troubled, Your Holiness," Enrico answered, not bothering to hide his smile. This was the big chance the Vatican had been waiting for ever since Henry the eighth forced his wonderful country to leave the path of God. It was the chance he had been waiting for all his life. "Utilize Iscariot to the point of destruction if you see fit. Besides... the sinners might very well deal with each other, until they are ready to fall into their graves."
Another chuckle. "Yet again, an excellent choice of words. I will make the necessary preparations. I will need some information what you estimate we might need. As to this, I'd like you to meet someone very special. Stand up, if you will." Enrico rose, glad to get some kind of feeling back into his legs. Somebody, something, slowly made its way down the hall.
"Pardon if Ah dinnae bow, Yer Holiness. Ah doubt Ah would get back up again." It was an ancient woman. Her voice was rough. She was not much bigger than a child, her back bent low over her walking stick. Spotted dark and waxy skin flapping over her distorted body. Few lank hairs were pulled into a miserable knot on the back of her head, covered by a black veil. The face had disappeared in wrinkles. Arthritic hands were clenched around the handle of the stick. She seemed to be in pain with every move. Any child would run screaming from these remains of a woman. And yet she wore the clothes of a paladin, complete with a coat, gold-rimmed and with violet fodder.
She stopped in front of him and looked up. Her eyes were the only bright thing about her. They were sparkling with wits not even whatever had wasted her body could take away. Enrico could just stare at her. The only thought he managed was: She has the same accent as Anderson.
When he opened his mouth he hoped he wouldn't just blurt out a horrified "What happened to you?". "Enrico Maxwell. Pleased to meet you."
The woman laughed, which soon turned into a cough. She doubled over and might have fallen if Enrico hadn't caught her arm. It was disgustingly soft. He had no problem holding her. She seemed to have hardly any weight at all. After a few seconds, she straightened up as far as her distorted back let her. "Say aw ye want, lad. Ah'm too old tae mind."
Enrico didn't know what to say. She smiled with blackened teeth and gums, which was quite a horrible sight. She looked like a movie witch, but now he couldsee an aura of kindness.
"Maxwell, this is Paladin Kenzy Greer," the Pope said.
The old woman barked a laugh. "Ah havnae been ae paladin fae years. Ever since Ah retired in... when wis that? 1963?"
"How... how old are you?", Enrico asked without thinking. Succubi, vampires, the occasional werewolf, terrorists... it was not a pretty business. But nobody had prepared him for something like this.
"Exactly onehundred and fourteen years, lad. Enrico, 't wis? Yer friends calling ye Rico, Ah bet?"
He nodded slowly. Onehundred and fourteen? Well, she looked like every last one of these years. No. She looked a lot worse.
"Holy Faither, Ah think thon lad needs ae chair."
Enrico tried to concentrate. One hundred and fourteen, Jesus Christ, and he should need a chair? He felt his cheeks burning. "N- No, I'm fine. Thanks," he murmured. "But maybe you..."
"Ah'll survive standing ae puckle o' minutes. Ma back's thanking me."
She grinned at him in a way showing the young and witty woman she once had been, despite twisted lips and blackened teeth. Sometime between the World Wars, if his mental calculation didn't fail him completely. She had been born in 1902. Good Lord. But someday back then, she had been pretty. Beautiful, even.
"Kenzy is a dear friend of mine," the Pope said. "And Paladin Anderson's teacher, I should mention. She trained him until he became a full paladin in 1960."
"Hou's Alex doing?", Kenzy asked.
"G-Good. He's doing great work."
"He healthy?"
"Uhm... yes...?", Enrico answered, not sure how to answer that. "Better than most of the paladins, actually. He's... he's a regenerator after all."
Kenzy smiled softly, like a loving mother. But there was also a lot of bitterness. "Thas guid. Ah'd like tae see him ae last time. He's ayeways been ae guid lad. Ye think thas possible?"
"Of course," Enrico said after a moment of hesitation. Alexander had never said much about his own training. When he did, he only said "ma teacher". As a child, Enrico had always imagined someone Anderson's size and power, not a frail woman like this. "He'd be glad to see you, I'm sure. He should be in the orphanage. Shall I take you there later on?" He shot a quick glance to the Holy Father. The man just listened to them.
Kenzy laughed. "Ah'richt, but only when the kids are in. Ah'd just startle the lads and lassies." Her eyes caught him, unnaturally bright in her wasted face, reminding him of his own impolite and childish reaction. "Nou, Samuel, whit aboot telling thon poor laddie whit's gaun on?", Kenzy asked.
Enrico didn't like being treated like a child in general, but being 114 years old probably gave you the right not to give a damn anymore. She was talking about Anderson like the huge and not exactly young paladin was a child as well. Enrico had never expected to hear something like that.
The Pope laughed. "I have to admit, I wanted to see your reaction, Maxwell. You're used to dealing with odd things after all."
"If Ah'm not odd, Ah'll be damned," Kenzy added with a grin. "Ayeways wis, if ye believe ma lad Alex."
"I see," Enrico said. He was so confused by now that his mind was just shoving everything aside to have a blank space to start anew.
"Maxwell, what do you know about the regenerator process?", the Pope asked.
He thought about it for a moment. "Not much, I have to admit. I think there was some kind of serum involved. The early experiments took place after World War One and it was completed in the sixties. ...Anderson is the only one we got at the moment."
"Very good," the Holy Father said. "The experiments were first conducted on animals. I cannot explain the actual process. You would need a scientist for this. But in general, the basis is a serum, like you said. The actual "turning" is very painful and only few survived it. There seems to be a special constitution needed. Alexander Anderson is the only one who could be successfully transformed without being affected in any other way than it was supposed to."
"What do you mean affected...?", Enrico asked, a thought forming in the back of his mind. But that was ridiculous. Look at this porcelain-like woman. Alexander was big and powerful, the exact opposite. Of course he had been a perfect choice.
"Not being able tae die can be ae curse," Kenzy said. "Yer body giving wey. But much mair... seeing aw ye love waste away knowing ye willnae follow fae ae lang time. Ah pity him."
Enrico could only stare at her. This frail old woman, wasted by time and... what had been done to her? She smiled. It was not a pretty sight. "Ah wis thae first they uised the "wonder" on back then. Didnae work oot like they planned. Had Ah known, Ah wouldnae hae voluteered." Her legs seemed to give way and Enrico caught her. He knew the disgust he felt was unjustified. This woman was a hero. She had given so much for their church and nobody even knew about her.
"Thanks, laddie. No. Enrico. Rico? Ah'm too old fae remembering so much. Ma memories are slowly slipping awey. Ah am. Finally. But first Ah want tae see ma Alex again."
"Kenzy is right," the Pope suddenly said. Enrico had almost forgotten about him for a second and winced miserably. "Maxwell, I arranged Kenzy to come here from Scotland to help us a last time. She will give you information about the regenerator process and all that is connected with it. Anderson does not know about most of this himself. You might need it. I don't have to tell you all of this is secret, right?"
"Of course not."
"Very well then. Kenzy, it was wonderful to see you again."
"Never thought ye little lad would make it that far," she answered and laughed. "Farewell, ma lad."
"Farewell. It was an honor to know you, teacher."
Enrico bowed. "Farewell. Uhm, I mean goodbye. Excuse me, Your Holiness," he stuttered. Bloody hell. At least Caitlyn is not here.
...What?
"You do great work, Maxwell. I'm very glad to have such a reliable man at my side."
"Thank you, Your Holiness."
He got up again and escorted Kenzy outside. It was agonizingly slow, but he didn't push her. She made her way with determination, despite pain shaking her body with every move, and refusing his help. It was the willpower of a once strong warrior. Kenzy Greer. He vaguely remembered that name. She had been honored, though silently in the manner of a secret organization, for her work. Iscariot had always been male-dominated and he had just assumed it belonged to a man. And someone born in 1902 he had not expected to meet alive.
Outside, directly on Piazza San Pietro, a car was waiting for them. Enrico didn't know the driver. Probably someone from Section I or V. The man gave him the keys, but stayed where he was, on the steps to the basilica. Enrico didn't ask. He opened the passenger door and helped Kenzy inside, ignoring the pain in his hand. He noticed a dark leather briefcase on the back seat. Enrico got in and started the engine. It was the time of the lunch break and the streets were packed. It would take an eternity to reach Ferdinant Lukes. And Enrico wasn't that much of a driver anyway. He didn't even own a car. What for? He was living almost next to anywhere he needed to be.
They drove in silence – not counting Enrico's occasional curses – until they were out of the city. The orphanage was only a few minutes away now. "Sairy fae startling ye like that," Kenzy suddenly said. "Samuel ayeways wis into such things."
Enrico took a moment to realize she was speaking of the Holy Father. "No problem at all. I was just... confused. Still am, to be honest."
"Ye are facing ae dangerous enemy," the old woman said softly. "And Alex will be important. Verra important." She fell silent again. The street flew past, trees and houses and colors. They pulled up in front of the orphanage. Even here you could hear the kids yelling while they were playing in the yard. Many of the paladins had been here as well, years ago. Future paladins were maybe playing here right now.
Enrico killed the engine and wanted to get out. Kenzy grabbed his arm before he could open the door. Her bent fingers were astoundingly strong. The blue eyes seemed to be burning, fighting against her decay. That was what Enrico remembered best later on. Those burning eyes.
"Director Maxwell. Ye have tae promise me something," Kenzy said. "In the bag ye'll find aw ye need tae ken. Ah also wrote ae wee bit on other matters. There's yin problem wi' all o' them. They're reckless. Samuel and Alex and aw the others. They'll dae anything if they think it's necessary. Ye hae tae protect them fae themselves."
"Of course," Enrico said as seriously as he managed. Maybe she was senile after all. Wouldn't be much of a surprise at that age.
Those eyes held him all the time. It was unsettling, to be honest. "Ye think Ah'm not in ma mind," Kenzy said. "Thas ah'richt. Ah'm old and ye're young. Youngsters think like that. Ayeways did, ayeways will. Just promise tae protect ma Alex. Ye dae that, aye?" Enrico could not imagine anything Anderson of all people could need protection from, but nodded anyway.
"I promise." Kenzy looked him in the eyes for a few more seconds and seemed satisfied after all. She let go. Enrico used the time he was outside the car without her to rub his aching wrist. Jesus Christ. How could such a porcelain-like woman be that strong?
Anyhow, she didn't seem strong when he helped her out of the car. Just old and tired. They walked up to the orphanage and Enrico opened the gate for her. Anderson was outside, watching the children. When he saw them, he was at first just surprised. Then surprise turned into shock and a mixture of joy and something awfully similar to fear. He jumped to his feet and met them halfway down the path. This was the spot Enrico had been standing when they first met, he thought. Unlike then, it was not sunset, though. He remembered that in all details.
"Kenzy, guid Laird, whit are ye doing here?" Anderson knelt down and still was taller than her. She locked her thin arms around his neck, looking not much bigger than a doll.
"Wanted tae see ye ae last time," she said softly, stroking his cheek and the scar. "Ma Alex. Ah ayeways told ye, ye'd be great wi' kids." She stepped back, leaning heavily on the walking stick. "Ye haven't aged ae day since 1969."
"Aye," Anderson answered. That was all. They seemed to communicate without words.
"Ye ayeways hae been guid. Dinnae dae anything stupid, ye hear me?", she said. Her knees gave way. She fell into Anderson's arms.
"Kenzy? Kenzy!" It was the first time Enrico heard panic in his former teacher's voice. Kenzy lay in Anderson's arms, limp, her breath ragged. Her eyes were falling shut slowly.
"Alex... Ma laddie Alex."
"Teacher." Anderson's voice was shaking.
Kenzy smiled. "Ah'm so proud o' ye," she whispered. Then her eyes turned glassy and lifeless, the smile still on her face. Anderson just stared at her, motionless, too stunned to do anything.
Someone tugged at Enrico's sleeve. At first he didn't even notice. There were tears glistening in Anderson's eyes and that had shattered some important part of Enrico's world view. He wasn't even sure if his body would follow his commands now. The tugging became more insistent. He was able to turn to the little boy standing there, observing everything carefully. "What's wrong with her?", the boy asked in Italian. "She dead?"
"Yes," Enrico answered slowly. Kids had never been his specialty.
"She looks awful."
"Dinnae talk like that aboot the dead," Anderson snapped. "She wis ae hella lot more important than ye ken!"
The boy winced and hid behind Enrico. "Sorry, Father!"
Anderson stood up. His movements were heavy, as if he was carrying a weight much bigger than the small woman. "Can ye tell Marco tae help me oot?"
"O-Of course." Anderson nodded and slowly walked away. Enrico was left standing there with the little boy.
"Hey Signore? What happened to her?", the child eventually asked, probably expecting another reprimand. Enrico was searching for his phone to call Renaldo. Or Lisa. Or anyone.
What had just happened?
For some reason he had to think about this briefcase on the backseat of the car, just meters away. "Nothing," he said absently. "She was just very old."
Hellsing mansion, near London, September 12th, 2016
Caitlyn drew little spirals on her second notepad. Around, and around and around, in neat little rows. Helped her think. Not that she hadn't thought about anything else than one and the same topic since the day before yesterday.
Enrico Maxwell. Bishop Enrico Maxwell. He liked being called by his title.
Possessed he is with greatness.
Right. She hadn't written that down yet. She did so on the notepad she used for the important notes. It was almost full. Caitlyn had gone through all of this for what felt like a zillion times, but it couldn't hurt writing everything down. She already had a sheet for Alexander Anderson. He had been tougher to read. No wonder, panicking like she had been. The only things she had: the scar. Raspberries. And Mira's weird reaction. Even in the museum, she had been... weird. Caitlyn had no other word for it and didn't bother to think about it. She had other things in mind.
Enrico had done remarkably well. Everyone would have been surprised by her deductions. He certainly wasn't used to someone actually "finding out" about his sister. They didn't look alike at all, Walter was right about that. Anyone else would assume... things. That got to be annoying.
She looked over the notes. Enrico loved showing off power. Caitlyn wouldn't go so far as to assume some kind of inferiority complex... except there was the fact he was adopted.
There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
"Sorry, Will, but I disagree. You just have to look closely."
Now don't exaggerate. You're not a psychologist, Katie!
She had written something. Caitlyn looked down at the second notepad. Katie. Pretty weird spelling in comparison to her actual name. But looked better than Caitie or Caity. Nobody had ever called her that. Not that she remembered. Then again, her name was a problem in general. People tended to spell it "Katelyn" and by now she had trouble hiding how much that pissed her off.
Her gaze fell on the info Enrico had given her. It was pretty much what he had already told her. Not all the Vatican knew, obviously. He was not stupid. Educated, intelligent... ah, yes, also arrogant, fanatical, sneaky... Definitely ambitious. She looked down at what else she had written.
Oh, right. Handsome as fuck.
She always had had a thing for blond guys. And long hair. And green eyes. And an Italian accent, apparently. Damn. No need to lie about it, right?
Caitlyn shook her head. First Walter, now the Iscariot bloke. Bloody hell. No wonder the Round Table was doubting her qualities. They had a point after all.
Yeah, start thinking like that, Morris. Then you can resign at once.
Back to the bloody subject. Enrico Maxwell. Even if she couldn't get her feelings under control, she must not underestimate him. Nobody got into such a position at that age by being nice and quiet. She startled him and was able to read into him a bit. That was good. But another time this would be hard. And she was not so stupid to think he'd return her affection. The only thing holding the really fanatical part back was Lisa Hamilton. The meeting had been a way to pay back the debt of the treaty violation. And she couldn't help thinking the Vatican had its own plans for Hellsing and Millennium.
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
Oh right, she hadn't mentioned to him that he had a cat. A beige one, probably. She grinned. Either that would have freaked him out completely or it would have been the easiest part to explain. Cat hairs stuck to pretty much everything, the stereotype said. Except for the cat of course.
Somebody rapped on the door. It was a heavy sound. Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom. Five times, loudly and seemingly agitated. That was neither Walter nor Pip or Seras. Mira never knocked anyway. And Caitlyn would bet it was none of the Wild Geese.
She could hear Walter's protest when the heavy door was opened. Two men came inside, both in black suits, sunglasses and an identical short cut of dark hair. "Sir Hellsing?" Number one was not really tall, not like Enrico or even Mira in her true form, but also not short. Quite a bit taller than Caitlyn.
She looked them up and down. Military positions. Used to orders, but also giving orders. Looking around for threats. Professionals. But not closer informed, as they ignored the biggest threat standing directly behind them.
"If you mean Arthur Hellsing or even his daughter, I'm afraid both are not available. Lady Caitlyn Morris Hellsing, it is."
They didn't even allow themselves a frown. Remarkable. The second one stepped forward. He was taller than his colleague, but also not tall in absolute terms. Walter shoved him aside to enter the room, keeping out of direct sunlight. He claimed it was not some big enemy to him, but he hated it anyway. He was in his true form of a 14-year-old, the way he had been at his turning. They must have taken him by surprise.
"I'm terribly sorry, Lady Hellsing, for letting them barge in like that." Before he could continue, the man who was not short pushed him aside.
"Get out of the way, lad, and let the adults do the talking." Walter's eyes narrowed.
Oh God. Caitlyn stood up more loudly and hastily than it was preferred for a lady. The two men looked at her, again no emotion displayed on their faces. Walter was distracted for a moment. Caitlyn used that moment to step between him and the agents. Either they were blind or ignorant or suicidal. Caitlyn brushed Walter's trembling hands. If the agents saw it, they didn't react.
"How can I help you, gentlemen?"
"The queen wishes you to join her for tea," the man who was not short said.
"Immediately," his partner added.
Caitlyn got a glimpse of herself in the mirror that helped her watch all of the room from her desk. Trainers, jeans, a slightly crumpled blouse over a tee shirt. She had ink and pencil stains on her hands. "Uh... I don't think I'm suitably dressed for such an occasion. If you give me ten minutes-"
The one who was not tall interrupted. "I'm sorry, Lady Hellsing, but we have orders to bring you to Buckingham Palace without delay."
Great. Just great. Walter handed her her coat. Not too flashy, but also not shabby. Thank God for him. And in the pockets should be lemon tissues for getting rid of the worst stains.
"Walter, please go and wake Mira, we leave at once." He nodded and disappeared into the shadows.
"That kid is your bodyguard?", the one who was not short asked. Caitlyn ignored him, glad that Walter was hopefully already in the basement and couldn't hear this.
"They will join us soon," she said as she walked to the door. Twenty-one, down the corridor. Fifty-seven. A descent like that could only come from Walsh or Irons. Or possibly Reese. Emily was back home, but had a hard time adapting. She had lost both of her lower legs. Not to mention her mental state. The physical part was at least partially Mira's fault, which meant Caitlyn was – in the eyes of Reese and many others – equally responsible. Not that anyone told Caitlyn in the face. They didn't need to.
They act as if I had kidnapped the poor girl and then set up the attack. Nobody cares for my men. She had forgotten to count, but now they reached the front door. Mira and Walter, both in the form of young adults (Mira again ridiculously pretty), were already waiting. The two agents didn't pay them more attention than a short glance.
"For a moment I actually thought she'd bring that brat as a bodyguard," the one who was not short said. Caitlyn shoved Walter outside, directly into the sunlight. At least that kept him a bit busy. A black Mercedes was parked directly in front of the entrance. Caitlyn frowned. Who had opened the gate for them? And why hadn't she been informed? Even Walter had been surprised by their arrival.
She could hear gunshots in the distance. The Wild Geese were training again. "Has Captain Bernadotte been informed?", she asked, her thoughts drifting from this puzzle to her new subordinates. The Wild Geese were doing exceptionally well. They were mercenaries, yes, but Caitlyn had no trouble imagining them to work for her permanently. She liked them, they fit all criteria. And if she waited long enough, maybe there would even be a marriage. Not even too long. Poor Pip Bernadotte had a lot of jokes to deal with, now that his fiancee was not making a secret of it anymore. Caitlyn would like that. Maybe after this Millennium thing was over and the Vatican was dealt with.
"Yes, Master," Walter said, trying not to show how much he hated standing in the sun. Mira didn't seem to mind.
"Good. Then we can go." She went to the Mercedes and opened the rear door. The benches faced each other. On the other side, its back turned to the driver, sat someone. Caitlyn climbed in, followed by Mira and Walter. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the relative gloom as opposed to the bright sunlight. She had expected Walsh or Irons, maybe even Reese. But it was Shelby Penwood. He smiled at her, not able to hide his nervousness in the presence of the two vampires.
Caitlyn beamed. "Sir Penwood, what a surprise!"
Penwood smiled nervously. He had never been comfortable with Caitlyn's supernatural partners. Then again, when was he not nervous? Nothing out of the ordinary.
The car left the huge mansion behind and turned onto the highway. "What is this about?", Caitlyn asked. And why couldn't I have at least five minutes to change? She already dreaded stepping in front of the queen like this. After opening the sloppy ponytail she wore for working in private, she tried to get at least some kind of order into her hair. It was funny: When in the orphanage, she had always wanted short hair. After leaving and taking her post as head of Hellsing, cutting her hair was one of the first things she did. Just to realize it looked crappy. So now the ginger strands were falling over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Though Enrico's ponytail had been even longer. Was it as soft as it looked? She would have loved to try.
"I don't know. The queen requested you to come immediately." Yeah. So you couldn't give me a call. It's not that you don't need at least half an hour by car in that traffic.
"I already heard that. Oh, and by the way. Your agents – I suppose they are yours?"
"What did they do?" Penwood shot a glance to Mira and Walter. Mira was staring out of the window, seemingly in thoughts. But Walter looked at him. Penwood seemed to see something that made him shrink deeper into his seat.
"Please tell them to keep their opinion to themselves," Caitlyn said friendly. She nudged Walter, until he too looked out of the darkened window. Caitlyn wondered if the choice of the car had been on purpose. Would be a nice sign.
"Of course. I apologize on their behalf." The rest of the drive passed in silence. The car entered inner London. Somehow they managed to get to Buckingham Palace in only a few minutes. They drove through the open gate, through masses of tourists wondering who was in that car. It stopped in front of the main door. They climbed out and Caitlyn tried to smooth her clothes. Now she had forgotten to clean her hands after all. Penwood walked her up to the doors, Mira and Walter followed. Caitlyn took a deep breath.
The door opened. Henry Vansten, the private butler of the royal family, greeted them. He gave a short nod at his colleague. "Sir Penwood, the Round Table is awaiting you in the south wing." Penwood nodded. "Thank you. Goodbye, Lady Caitlyn." Say what. I always thought I was the head of the bloody convention of twelve.
"Goodbye." Henry led them along the endless corridors. As always, Caitlyn was overwhelmed by the abundance, the shimmering. She liked to have things in order, but here it was just too much to even see at once, let alone gather. They stopped in front of white French doors.
"Her Majesty has requested Lady Hellsing to enter alone," Henry told them. Mira frowned and looked around.
"It's okay," Caitlyn said. Hopefully they wouldn't cause any trouble this time. "You two stay out here. Thank you."
She took a deep breath, before Henry opened the doors. It was a private meeting room. The glass doors to the terrace were wide open and the afternoon sun reflected off white and gold. The queen sat on one of the divans, her back turned towards the light, her face in shadows. Caitlyn scanned the room only briefly, despite seeing so many interesting things. "Your Majesty," she said when the doors had slammed shut behind her. She actually had thought of a curtsy, but since she was not wearing a skirt that didn't make sense. "Excuse my attire."
The queen smiled. "Ah no, my dear. I see you have been working. Don't worry. At my age, you become tired of formality taking your limited time. Sit down." Caitlyn did so on the opposite divan. "I'm sorry for the short notice."
"No need to apologize, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?"
"You met with the representative of the Iscariot organization two days ago."
Oh yes. "Yes, Your Majesty. Have you been handed my report?"
"Sir Irons took care of it. But I wanted to talk to you personally. Iscariot has been one of our worst enemies for centuries. And now this other old enemy reappearing. It is terrible."
"Indeed it is." Not as terrible as for my men. My dead men. The royals rather sit in their chambers and plan who to sacrifice. ...Me included.
"My interest is of different nature though. We need to make plans to prepare for an attack of both this Millennium and the Vatican. You are the only one who can answer me: Can we fend off an attack of both?" With Mira and Walter at full power? Easily. Which probably means a lot of people dying that have nothing to do with it. Except... Anderson. He could beat them. Not both, but one.
"I don't think this is necessary. Bishop Maxwell proposed a cooperation of our organizations. I think this is the right way." The queen took a sip of her tea. She was waiting. This was not just a meeting. It was a test, probably initiated by the Round Table. "Of course, we cannot trust them and need to be careful. There's a chance they will attack us once Millennium is done for. But if they fight alongside us, they will be weakened as well, meaning they will think twice before attacking after such a heavy fight."
"Sir Irons told me you had trouble putting up with an agent of Iscariot in Badrick. Paladin Alexander Anderson. The name is famous even here. Sir Irons also mentioned the Iscariot is on the height of their power right now. You will get a report, but according to Sir Walsh there seem to be quite a lot so-called "talents" in their ranks right now that might pose a threat in the future. Did you include this case?" What talents? Who except for Anderson? Caitlyn told herself to stop freaking out. Of course the paladins were expertly trained. Otherwise they would have been eradicated long ago. "Yes, Your Majesty. Hellsing is ready to face this threat unconditionally."
The queen nodded. Who was she waiting for?, Caitlyn wondered. The queen took another sip of her tea. So did Caitlyn, trying to hide a smile. The queen approved. Take that, Irons!
"That is good to hear. Now then, Sir Walsh tells me it would be useful to have as much intriguing information as possible about them."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Sir Irons says this, Sir Walsh says that. She gave up the leadership of this country a long time ago. Now people like Irons and Walsh hold the reigns. "Would it not cause an uproar to merely disclose the existence of the Iscariot organization to the public?"
The queen chuckled. "Oh yes. But that is not the point." And here the mysterious third man steps in. Caitlyn almost burst out laughing in surprise when the door actually opened. The man was tall and lean, but a good deal over eighty. The gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed. He had trained a lot throughout his life, age taking away the possibilities in the end. Also, he leaned on crutches. The left ankle was in a cast. The accident couldn't have been long ago.
He had a broad face and mean gray eyes. So that was the informant? Vatican, Caitlyn decided. Everything else wouldn't make sense.
"Lady Hellsing. Queen." The man sat down with a heavy thud. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at this rudeness, but the queen ignored it. The man had a slight accent. Dutch, maybe?
"Who are you?", Caitlyn asked skeptically. He wore a black suit without any obvious signs who he represented except for himself.
"That doesn't matter. All you need to know is that it is in my interest to... yes, let's be open, destroy the current structures of Iscariot." He had been in Church service for years, maybe his whole life. Not an average priest either. He was used to giving orders. Judging from the way he looked at her, he was also used to gathering information at any time. He obviously didn't like protestants. And he was the type of man to hold grudges for a long time. "Starting with their leader, Enrico Maxwell." Caitlyn nodded, trying to look neutral. Enrico seemed to have quite a bunch of enemies himself. They were so similar, it was eerie.
Was there a similar meeting taking place in the Vatican right now? Maybe they had a traitor in their own ranks?
"Maxwell is a danger to all of us. He is a madman without a conscience. A psychopath, in other words." That's not true, Caitlyn thought. He's not a psychopath. And he's got a conscience. It's called Lisa. Still, she didn't say anything. Suddenly a song she had found just a few weeks ago started playing in her head. It was already a few years old.
I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,
I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.
"The Pope doesn't want to or cannot see this. But Maxwell is unscrupulous and if we want to prevent a massacre, we have to fell him soon."
If I told you what I was, Would you turn your back on me?
Even if I seem dangerous, Would you be scared?
Caitlyn tried to ignore the song in her head. What had Enrico done to this guy to make him that angry? Jumping the ranks for example? She thought of the article about the consecration. Seeing such a young man in the same or only slightly lower position while this bloke here was crumbling away, not coming further despite his work? There were a billion people able to relate to that. But he should be careful.
Envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.
"Excuse me, but I didn't have the impression-" The man cut her off harshly.
"Since Maxwell is the leader of Iscariot, they have become more powerful than they have been since the days of the Spanish Inquisition. Also, a lot of younger agents rose to the top ranks. Mostly" Caitlyn could hear his distaste. "Women." Oh great, another chauvinistic asshat. And that in the days of feminism. "You're too young to judge that. Enrico Maxwell is a monster."
And it keeps getting stronger.
"It would be in our best interest to combine all information we have."
"Like what?", Caitlyn asked.
"With a change of leadership Iscariot will be in confusion for a while." He really is hell-bent on taking down Enrico. Does he even try to cover it up? "Any... say, objectionable information. Like about the relationship with his step-sister."
"Step-sister?", Caitlyn asked. How good was he at reading people? He probably thought he was good. He didn't seem to be suspicious. Chauvinism at work.
"You met her. The brown-haired girl accompanying him in the Imperial War Museum."
Welcome to 1984. Big Brother Vatican is watching you.
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows. "That was his sister?" The man nodded, satisfied he had been right about Caitlyn not being able to judge others. "They are not blood-related. But alone the fact that they are sharing their flat... is quite intriguing." That's kinda cute. Unusual, but cute.
"I see. Your Majesty?"
The queen had said nothing the whole time. Now she nodded. "This cooperation will prove to be useful. Please forward all information you have to this address." The man handed her a note. Just some anonymous e-mail-address.
Caitlyn had never followed the series with enthusiasm, but even she got the joke.
"Of course." Dream on.
The old man stood up slowly, trying not to put weight on his injured foot. Normally Caitlyn would have offered to help, but after he had been so unfriendly? It would just have gotten her another figurative slap. "I have to go now," the man said. "It was a pleasure to meet you." How does he even keep a straight face saying that? The man limped out of the room and closed the doors. The queen was silent for a few seconds until he had for sure left the hearing range.
"What do you think, Lady Hellsing?"
"Do we know it's not a trick by the Iscariots to double-cross us?"
"Let's assume it's not."
"Well, he's dangerous and we can't trust him. But I suppose it would be logical to play off Iscariot against him and whoever he supports. The problem is, he knows that. Who was that, anyway? And why does he want Section XIII down that badly?"
"Indeed, indeed." The queen sighed. She looked ancient, all of a sudden, from what Caitlyn could see. The afternoon sun shone in her eyes and blinded her most of the time. It was setting. The air had grown colder. "We could tolerate Iscariot for so long because there was a mutual balance of power for years. But now they attacked us in Badrick." Well, they did make up for it. Caitlyn didn't say anything. "This won't be the last time. We need to weaken them. Let's assume the fair Sir you just met will help us. Then we can target Millennium."
Caitlyn felt her hands clench. This was unheard of, but on the other hand the queen was not issuing direct orders yet, right? The Round Table was just waiting for her to slip. Maybe that Dutch guy was sent by them? Caitlyn Morris, you're becoming paranoid.
"Your Majesty, I beg to differ. If Millennium is as powerful as we assume, we need any help we can get to keep the... to minimize the damage. They will need time to regather their strength and then we will be able to..." Did she really just want to say turn them to dust? She was starting to think like them. "...defeat them without too many losses."
The queen finished her tea and chuckled. "Very well, Lady Hellsing. You seem to have a plan. I will withdraw now. At my age, long days are a nuisance." The queen stood up. Caitlyn hastily did so as well, wondering if she should help her. Henry was nowhere to be seen.
The queen seemed to wait that Caitlyn left. "Goodbye, Your Majesty. ...Uh... Have a nice day?"
"Yes, my dear. Thank you." Caitlyn hesitated again, but then went to the doors she had entered through. "Caitlyn?"
She stopped and turned around. God, she was trembling. When had that started? "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Keep an eye on Maxwell. And be careful. Or all we love will fall to dust. "
I hope you liked it :)
The title song is "Fall of the peacemakers" by Molly Hatchett.
The song Caitlyn is referencing is "Monster" by Imagine Dragons.