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section7mfuIt was considered bad luck for a building to have a thirteenth floor, at least here in the United States, other places, maybe not as much so.
Omitting it could take several forms; the most common of which could include denoting what would be the thirteenth floor by simply calling it the fourteenth, or giving the thirteenth floor an alternate designation such as 12A or M which was the thirteenth letter of the Latin alphabet, or merely closing the 13th floor to public occupancy or access as if it didn’t exist.
Triskaidekaphobia or the fear of the number 13 on the part of the building's owner or builder might influence them in order to prevent problems that might arise with superstitious occupants.
In this case there was no fear of the number thirteen, not to the occupants on this floor who wanted not to be seen or heard. Theirs was a clandestine presence and this was a place that no one knew existed except for a select few.
The elevator doors silently opened and a petite blonde woman stepped through to this particular thirteenth floor.
She was pretty, dressed in a neutral mid-calf beige skirt and a matching bolero jacket. Even her boots matched. The only hint of color was a green, black and gold paisley scarf tied round her neck.
A brunette secretary greeted her with a smile, holding out a black lacquer tray.
“You can leave your weapon here sweetie.”
The woman leaned forward, snatching the secretary by her cardigan sweater and pulled her forward until they were practically nose to nose.
“Call me that again and you’ll have a face that no man will ever want to look at, understand? I didn’t get where I am today by letting people call me sweetie.”
“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am. He’s waiting for you in his office.” The girl’s face nearly turned as red as her sweater.
“Good, that’s more like it. Get your act together and maybe you can move up too someday...oh, and I’m not leaving my gun.”
She held open her jacket, showing a Beretta tucked into the waistband of her skirt. She liked the feel of the Italian made weapon sometimes called the ‘Puma.’
“Yes ma’am.”
“Now buzz me in.”
The girl flicked a toggle switch and spoke into the intercom. “She’s here sir.”
“Send her in.” The voice was low and gravelly, like it had smoked too many cigarettes.
The secretary hit another switch and there was a loud buzz as a pneumatic door opened.
“Welcome my dear, please be seated.” A man spoke from the shadows. His face was hidden as he was seated behind his desk with the lights kept low.
"I prefer to stand and don’t have much time.”
“Things are going as planned then?”
“Yes, Solo was shot. He stopped along the Belt Parkway, falling right into my trap, just as we anticipated he would.”
“I haven’t heard any chatter as to whether he is dead or alive, or even wounded for that matter,” his voice was tinged with a slight hint of annoyance.
“I definitely shot him, and I saw him go down. If he didn’t die on the spot, he’ll eventually will The round was laced with a slow acting poison. If he survived, the poison will keep him unconscious and will kill him.”
“A good backup plan, and now onto phase two.”
“Yes sir. I won’t let you down, that I promise you.” She looked at her wristwatch. “I must go...can’t be late.”
“Good luck. You better not let me down.”
She ignored the implied threat. “Thank you sir, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“This operation is a black ops, remember that. If you’re caught, no one will come to your assistance or acknowledge your actions. You will be considered rogue and nothing more. You know what you have to do if that happens.”
She nodded and exited the way she came in, not giving the secretary a second look.
When the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor, she exited amidst the busy lobby of the Chrysler building and headed out to Lexington Avenue.
There the doorman hailed a taxi for her and immediately one pulled up curbside.
As he opened the taxi door for her, the driver spoke.
“Where to ma’am.” He couldn’t help but notice the looks of this woman and her luscious red lips.
“Kennedy Airport, get me there fast and there’ll be a good tip in it for you.”
“Yes ma’am!” The driver looked out into traffic and hit the gas, burning a bit of rubber.
.
Illya bypassed going to the library and went straight to see the Cardinal, having gotten an early appointment to visit his Eminence.
An older woman, most likely a secretary, greeted him in the outer office before knocking on the dark wooden door to announce his arrival.
“Hello Mister Kuryakin, Cardinal Spellerman is waiting for you.” She opened the door, gesturing for him to enter.
Illya stepped into the office, taking a quick glance at his surroundings. The walls were lined with books, and there were a number of religious statues on pedestals and a nearly life-sized crucifix dominated the wall behind the Cardinal’s desk. A few potted palm trees filled in the empty spaces between the dark furnishings.
For some reason it reminded him of Harry Beldon’s office, though the statuary filling that office were Greco-Roman...various nudes of course, as that was Beldon’s taste. There were no hints of religion, to say the least, as Harry was an atheist with hedonistic tendencies.
“Illya,” Spellerman rose from his desk and walked around to greet the Russian. He shook his hand but didn’t offer his ring to be kissed, as was the protocol for Catholics.
Illya however, wasn’t Catholic and proclaimed to be atheist himself, thanks to his Soviet upbringing.
“Good to see you again. Am I to assume this visit is not one of a religious nature? Not ready to convert yet are you?” The man smiled. “Just joking. What can I do to be of assistance to the U.N.C.L.E.”
Spellerman was well aware of the organization and had sought its help when THRUSH attempted to have one of their own elected Pontiff with the passing of Pope John XXIII.*
“I am sure you do not know that Napoleon was attacked recently and is at present unconscious if Coney Island hospital.
“No I wasn’t; I will pray for him. Alex doesn’t share much with me, though we’re good friends. I’m not privy to the workings of UNCLE, unless of course I’m brought into the fold for whatever reason. Please, have a seat and tell me what I can do to help; may I offer you a drink. I have Stoli.”
“Though tempting, no thank you, your Eminence. Napoleon was investigating a possible THRUSH attempt to infiltrate and recruit from Xaverian Brothers high school…”
“Ah yes in Bay Ridge. What makes you think THRUSH is at it again?”
“Brother Sean Kelly a teacher there and a former classmate of Napoleon’s…”
“He went to Xaverian?” The Cardinal interrupted again.”Interesting.”
“Yes sir, as I was saying Brother Kelly contacted Napoleon regarding his suspicion that something was going on at the school. After leaving his meeting with the Brother, Napoleon was waylaid at a stop on the Belt Parkway. He was shot by a mysterious woman. There were witnesses, a doctor and his wife and though their presence helped save Napoleon’s life, what they saw was of little help. We have no idea if either situation is related or not.”
“Well that’s quite a mouthful young man, but what can I do to help you?”
“Tell me about the Xaverian Brothers.”
“Well they’re a worldwide religious order, inspired by their patron St. Francis Xavier, that sponsors schools across the country. The Xaverians consist of lay people devoted to Catholic education."
I"n 1853 Louisville Bishop Martin Spalding invited the Xaverian brothers to open a school in his diocese, and in 1854 the first colony of brothers moved to the United States. The Brothers took charge of several parochial schools in 1864 and opened St. Xavier High School, in Louisville, Kentucky.”
“In 1864, Spalding, then Archbishop of Baltimore, asked the Xaverians to open schools there, and they did so. Baltimore was made the center of Xaverian activities in the United States, and in 1876 a novitiate was opened there at the site of Mount Saint Joseph College, where it still stands. Both rooted in the Roman Catholic Church, the Baltimore-based Xaverian Brothers and the Archdiocese of Baltimore are affiliated but separate entities.”
The Cardinal paused to pour himself a glass of water and take a sip from it.
“By 1900, the Xaverian Brothers had opened schools in New York, Maryland, Massachusetts, Virginia, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania.
A small Rosary-making club formed by Xaverian Brother Sylvan Mattingly in Louisville, Kentucky in 1949 grew to be the largest Catholic Rosary making group in the United States. Inspired by the message of Our Lady of Fatima.”
“Overseas there’s the Xaverian College in Manchester England, St. Francis Xavier Institute in Bruges, Belgium as well as several other schools of higher learning in England and Belgium.”
Illya listened patiently, his face remaining placid. It would be a monumental task to check every Xaverian related school to see if THRUSH was making their entreaties there as well. It was obvious now that he would need to assemble a team.
“Other than this information, there is nothing unusual that can be said about the Xaverians.” * The Cardinal shrugged...
Illya refrained from repeating the phrase ‘that was a mouthful.
“I feared that would be your conclusion,” he rose from his chair. ”Thank you your Eminence.”
Cardinal Spellerman rose as well. “I know you don’t believe my son but I will be keeping both you and Napoleon in my prayers. God bless you, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
He made the sign of the cross in the air and smiled as Kuryakin, the non-believer crossed himself, though in the Orthodox manner.
Orthodox Christians blessed themselves from right to left. They place the thumb and first two fingers together in a point, and the last fingers flattened against the palm. The three fingers together represented the Holy Trinity - Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and the two fingers in the palm represented the two natures of Christ.
The act of placing the cross on oneself was a request for a blessing from God.
“Old habit from childhood,” Illya blushed, embarrassed by what he’d just done. “It was an automatic response.”
The Cardinal said in nothing in response as he watched Kuryakin disappear from his office.
He looked upwards with a little smile, “It’s a start Lord, a start.”
.
.
* ref to “The Vatican Affair”
** from the history of the Xaverian Brothers.
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Date: 2019-08-09 04:43 pm (UTC)Of course, looking forward to the next chapter.
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Date: 2019-08-09 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-09 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-09 06:09 pm (UTC)I had a bit of an advantage on some of the research as my late brother attended the Xaverian High School mentioned here in the story. So I knew a bit about them.
Of course Cardinal Spellerman has come in handy again after I developed him for 'The Vatican Affair.' "D
I think there'll be a fair few more chapters until this story concludes.
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Date: 2019-08-09 06:27 pm (UTC)(I've somehow cobbled together a 11,000 word story for the Long Affair Challenge. I'm quite chuffed at that :-D )
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Date: 2019-08-09 06:50 pm (UTC)