Project Pope by Clifford D. Simak

you—so anxious to apprehend you they would track you here?”
    â€œNo, probably not. The whole episode was more or less political. It would have helped some people if they could have hung the margrave’s death on me.”
    â€œThey were looking for a scapegoat.”
    â€œExactly,” said Tennyson. “And they probably can use my disappearance to hang it on me, anyway. So everyone is pleased. But, at the moment, what happens back at Gutshot is not important. How about you? You must have a fair amount of money invested in this trip.”
    â€œSome, but in my business, that’s a chance you take. The cost won’t be all wasted in any case. If I can get the story, I think I may have something that will be really big. If I can’t crack Vatican, I still have something. Not so big, of course, but something.”
    â€œJill, how do you figure that?”
    â€œWell, look, I travel here and they won’t let me in. They won’t talk to me. They give me a total brush-off. They might even, if they feel violently enough about it, throw me off the planet. So why won’t they let me in? Why won’t they talk to me? Why did they throw me out? What’s going on? What’s going on at this big, secret-religion institution that can’t stand the light of day? What have they got to hide?”
    â€œYes, I see,” he said. “Yes, that would make a story.”
    â€œBy the time I got through with it, it would make a book.”
    â€œHow did you run into it in the first place?”
    â€œThings I picked up here and there. Over several years. I kept hearing things. Funny little whispers. None of them too important, some of them with little information in them. But, pieced all together, they got more and more intriguing.”
    â€œSo you’ve been digging at it for years. Trying to pick up clues.”
    â€œThat’s true. I worked hard at it. Not all the time, of course, but whenever I had a chance. I did a fair amount of thinking. The more I thought about it, the more the facts seemed worth going after. I may, as a matter of fact, have hypnotized myself with my thinking on it. It may turn out there is little here, no more than a bunch of silly robots embarked on a nonsensical enterprise.”
    Both of them fell silent for a moment, giving their attention to the food.
    â€œHow is your room?” asked Jill. “Mine is quite satisfactory.”
    â€œSo is mine,” said Tennyson. “Not the lap of luxury, but I can get along with it. One window gives a view of the mountains.”
    â€œThere aren’t any telephones,” said Jill. “I asked about it and was told there are no phones at all. A phone system has never been set up. There are electric lights, though, and I asked about that. I said how come electricity but no phones? No one seemed to know.”
    â€œMaybe no one ever felt the need of phones,” said Tennyson.
    â€œPardon me, sir,” said a voice. “Pardon the intrusion, but it is important.…”
    Tennyson looked up. A man was standing at his elbow. He was tall, somewhat beyond middle age, with a craggy face, smoothed-back hair, and a bristling, neat mustache that was turning gray.
    â€œI understand,” said the man, “that you are a physician. At least, I am told you are.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Tennyson replied. “I am Jason Tennyson. The lady with me is Jill Roberts.”
    â€œMy name,” said the man, “is Ecuyer. I’m from Vatican. Our physician was killed several days ago in a hunting accident.”
    â€œIf there is some way in which I can be of service.…”
    â€œYou’ll pardon me, ma’am,” said Ecuyer. “I dislike to interrupt your dinner and take away your partner. But we have a very ill woman. If you’d have a look at her.…”
    â€œI have to get my bag,” said Tennyson. “It’s in my room.”
    â€œI