Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

said Finn, not even looking at the fudge brownies. "That's always been your stock in trade, hasn't it; ever since your days as a hostage negotiator, back on Madraguda. But do you find your current vocation satsifying, Angelo? Does it fulfill all your needs? What do you want, Angelo?"
    "I want what my Church wants," Angelo said smoothly. "Access to the Madness Maze. It is our principle act of faith. Is that what you're here to discuss, Finn? I confess I can't think of any other reason why such an important figure as yourself should ask to see me so urgently."
    "I can get you access," said Finn. "I can put the Madness Maze in the Church's hands, now and forever."
    Angelo sat forward in his chair, pulling thoughtfully at his beard, and looked sharply at Finn.
    "Parliament's will remains unchanged; so that just leaves the King. Your fellow Paragon. Are you saying you can change the King's mind?"
    "Even better; I can change the King. And the new King will change Parliament's mind. With the Church's help, I will overthrow Douglas, remake Parliament, and make the Church the power in the Empire it always should have been."
    "This is treason," Angelo said slowly. "The Church . . . does not interfere in political matters. Never has, never will."
    "Not even for guaranteed access to the Madness Maze? Not even for the greatest prize of all; transendence for all Humanity?"
    Angelo glared at him. "Get thee behind me, Satan! I will not be tempted!"
    "Why not?" said Finn indulgently. "There's no sin in being truthful about what you really want. The Church wants the Maze, and you want to rise in the Church. You want to be in a position to command people, not have to beg from them. You want to be able to make them do the right thing, for once. And when you get right down to it, there's only one devil you need to overcome, and that's Parliament. All those powerful people, so wrapped up in their own small thoughts they can't step back and see what Humanity needs . .. Can't see the overwhelming importance of transcendence. Support me, and together we'll make them see."
    "Just like that," said Angelo, leaning back in his chair and studying Finn thoughtfully.
    "No, not just like that," Finn said patiently. "It will take time, and an awful lot of planning. One by one, we'll bring down the people who oppose us and replace them with new people more amenable to our needs. Together, you and I will create and control a new political force, the Church Militant. A Church within a Church, to seize the public's imagination, and grow into a force so powerful that even the high and mighty Members of Parliament will have to bow down to it. And the Madness Maze will be only one of the rewards ... I ask you again, Angelo Bellini; are you satisfied with your lot? Your Church? Your life? Or do you have the courage to change not just your life, but all Humanity's?"
    "You're wasted as a Paragon, Finn Durandal," said Angelo. "You should be in politics."
    "I am," said Finn. "They just don't know it yet."
    "Let me tell you my story," said Angelo, and Brett sighed inwardly. Everyone knew the story of the Angel of Madraguda. It had been dramatized several times, and God knows Angelo had told it often enough on the chat show circuit. (Always modestly, of course.) Bellini had been a hostage negotiator.
    Devils from the Hellfire Club had taken over a Church. Bellini talked them out of killing their hostages. He was so impressed by the courage of the priests involved that he joined the Church, and rose to Cardinal.
    The media made him a Saint. Everyone knew the story. Angelo could see it in their faces. He smiled briefly. "No, my friends; you only think you know what happened on Madraguda, all those years ago.
    Let me tell you what really happened."
    It was four in the morning and raining hard when Angelo arrived outside the Church. He climbed out of his car, hunched his shoulders against the pouring rain, and accepted a cup of steaming coffee from the uniformed peacekeeper. It was going to be a bad one. They wouldn't have hauled him out of bed at this ungodly hour, and dragged him all the way out here, for anything less than a major-league screwup.
    Angelo gulped at the scalding coffee and glanced through the driving rain at the Cathedral of the Blessed Saint Beatrice. Madraguda's only Cathedral wasn't that big or that impressive, but it was the spiritual heart of the city, and a lot of people were going to be mad as hell if the Hellfire Club carried out their threat