Project Pope by Clifford D. Simak Page A

room to her. “I’ve been wondering about you. I was about to track you down.”
    â€œHubert is fixing dinner,” she said. “I told him I could stay. Is that all right with you?”
    He bent to kiss her, then sat down beside her. “That’s fine,” he said. “How are things going with you?”
    She made a face. “Not well. They won’t stand still for a story. They offered me a job instead.”
    â€œAnd you accepted?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t. I’m not sure I will. I hear you are staying on.”
    â€œFor a time at least. A good place to hunker down.”
    She gestured at the single rose in the vase standing on the coffee table. “Where did you get that?”
    â€œA gardener gave it to me. I found the garden this morning. I’d like to show it to you.”
    â€œThey offered me a place to stay,” said Jill, “and I moved in this afternoon. Four doors away from you. The robot who moved me told me you were here. You have a drink around?”
    â€œI think there is,” he said. “But first let’s look at the garden.”
    â€œWell, all right,” she said.
    â€œYou’ll like it,” he assured her.
    When they reached the garden, she asked, “What’s all this uproar about the garden? It’s just an ordinary garden. What’s going on?”
    â€œIt’s not the garden,” he told her. “I imagine Hubert, in the kitchen, had his ears stretched out a foot or so. Do anything in this place and in ten minutes everyone has heard about it. I won’t bet they can’t hear us in the garden, but at least we have a chance. We have things to talk about.”
    â€œIt’s your Gutshot conditioning,” she said. “The cloak-and-dagger business.”
    He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe you’re right.”
    â€œYou jumped at the chance, apparently, to stay here. So there can’t be too much wrong.”
    â€œMaybe nothing wrong,” he said. “But strange. Damn strange. There’s a woman here—she’s the one Ecuyer came to get me to treat. She claims she has found Heaven.”
    â€œHeaven?”
    â€œThat’s right. Heaven. You see, they have this program going on. People going out in their minds to other places, bringing back the data to be fed into the Pope. Although I have a feeling it may be for other reasons than the feeding of the Pope. From something Ecuyer said the other night, it sounds if there may be some differences of opinion between the Search Program and Vatican.”
    â€œHeaven?” she asked. “You mean the honest-to-God Bible Heaven with the golden stairs and the trumpets blaring and the angels flying?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œBut, Jason, that’s impossible.”
    â€œPerhaps, but Mary thinks she’s found it. Ecuyer half believes in it.”
    â€œEcuyer’s a fool.”
    â€œNo, not a fool,” he said. “Jill, tell me. Did they use muscle on you?”
    â€œMuscle?”
    â€œYes, muscle. Ecuyer hinted rather broadly I might not be allowed to leave the planet.”
    â€œNo. No one mentioned that. I talked with a cardinal. Purple robes and scarlet skullcap. A single candle burning. Now, wait a minute. Is that why you’re staying? Because they won’t let you leave?”
    â€œNo, not that. They might even let us go. But the threat is there. This place is run by Vatican and what Vatican says is law. But I’m staying because I want to—for the moment. I have no place else to go. Besides, it’s comfortable. And I might as well confess it—I’m considerably intrigued.”
    â€œSo am I,” said Jill. “The cardinal wouldn’t listen to my writing articles or a book about this place. He said nothing about not allowing me to leave. As a matter of fact, I thought that he would throw me out. Then he offered me a job.”
    â€œThe iron fist in