The Reverend hadn't stopped arguing, like he hadn't even noticed he was suddenly standing at the front door of a building there was no way he'd ever seen in his life. Liam ignored him and pulled the bell listening to the deep bong of response. A truly monastic sound, he always thought.

His friend Brother Dominic answered the door and the telephone. Brother Dominic was the porter. Ring the bell and unless he was dead or at adoration he was the one who answered the door. He showed visitors to the parlor and sent word to the Abbot that someone had a visitor. That didn't happen often. But he also took in the deliveries when they came, dealt with the repairmen and gave directions when people got lost. Days, nights, weekends and holidays, close to eighty and spry as a six year old bent on mischief he was the face the Abbey presented to the world. He looked like innocence personified. If he didn't want to let you in, you stayed outside. He played a formidable game of chess.

"Ah, yes, the Abbot said you'd be dropping by anytime now. He's expecting you." And he opened the door wide. It was probably, Liam thought, the brown habit with the rope belt and rosary of the traditional Benedictine habit Brother Dominic wore, or maybe the tonsure his bald spot created, that finally got the Reverend's attention. What ever it was the sudden silence was a delight to the ear. Liam did not introduce him to Brother Dominic and the porter didn't ask. They knew each others ways of old.

Brother Dominic led them into the foyer and across the hall to the enclosure door. He pulled out his keys and opened the door passing them through saying, "you know the way I expect, by now." And then, seeing them through he closed and locked the door returning to his post. Liam, not pausing and keeping a hold on the arm of his companion, went down the passageway. Polished old oak floors gleamed dully in the light from the cloister walk. The windows, one following the other all along the passage, beginning where the wainscoting ended, looked out onto the central garth, covered now in snow, asleep and waiting. The paths had been swept clean, but there was no one out today, pacing the cadences of private prayer like there would have been in better weather. Beyond the garth, the gardens lay, hidden as well under the snow. At the end of the passage was Clem's office.

Clearly the Reverend saw none of that, if only because his demands for information and liberty began again, more insistent and somewhat louder. Liam paused, and looked at him. "This is a cloister. Be quiet."

The Reverend shut up.

Liam led him into Clem's office. Or rather, into his outer office where Brother Gerald held sway. It wasn't that you had to get past him to see Clem. Abbots didn't work like that. The monks always had access to him. He was their abbot, their spiritual father, to whom they gave obedience, to whom they came to ask permission or seek guidance, and sometimes even forgiveness. Brother Gerald's job, beyond the routine secretarial, was crowd control and sometimes gate keeper on the rare occasion Clem asked to not be disturbed. Brother Gerald was another old friend.

"Father Liam, yes, yes, do come in, please…sit down. He's expecting you, but is on the phone. Would you like some coffee or tea while you wait? He shouldn't be that long. It's only the Cardinal Archbishop of Washington."

Liam felt the Reverend jerk at the words. "The Cardinal Archbishop. I demand to speak with him. Tell him it's The Reverend Daniel Dudley Day, Knight of Christ. Tell him. He'll want to speak to me. I demand," his voice rising as no one moved to comply, "you let me speak with him!"

Liam sighed. "I thought I told you this was a monastery. Shut up! And don't make me tell you again. How dare you make such a racket here! Have you no reverence for this holy place?" Liam gave him the looked he'd used long ago with wayward altar boys who'd flubbed their Latin.

"I am sorry for shouting but this is beyond anything outrageous. You have kidnapped me! I demand to speak with His Eminence! I demand that you let me go!" Clearly the Reverend was getting worked up again. He had stretched himself to his full six foot seven or eight inches, or so Liam estimated. A solid man, dark coffee skin and close cut hair. Smooth faced, no beard or mustache, eyes a piercing brown amid vivid whites. He was an intimidating figure. Unfortunately Liam wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He'd faced down worse. But looking at him in this state you could understand where he got his arrogance. People had probably been doing what he'd told them to do using his voice, deep and bass, and his height for authority for a long time.

"Sit down Reverend and behave yourself. You're giving our brother the wrong impression entirely." And turning to Gerald he asked for tea for them both and sat down himself to wait.

"Why have you brought me here," the Reverend demanded, though in a lower tone.

"Well," said Liam matter-of-factly, as if speaking to the same slow-to-learn altar boy, "We had to bring you somewhere and I expect you'll be more comfortable here than anywhere else we could put you until we figure out what to do with you next." The Reverend shut up.

Gerald put down the phone. "You can go in now. He's off the phone. I'll bring the tea in when it comes.

And in they went, Liam leading. He stepped to the side to allow the Reverend to follow him, closing the door behind him. Clem was coming to met them, when the Reverend stunned them both. Dropping to one knee in front of Clem he kissed his abbatial ring and said, "Your Eminence, it is an honor to meet you. I am the Reverend Daniel Dudley Day, Knight of Christ." The number of people outside the Refuge who knew Clem was actually Archbishop Ignatius Peter Cardinal Clement, OSB and Archabbot of this monastery, making him a diocese unto himself and answerable only to the pope could be counted on one hand or less. The Reverend knowing complicated things to no end. It said a lot about who the Reverend knew.

 Clem raised an eyebrow, high, and glanced at Liam. In spite of himself Liam grinned. Clem tugged his hand free and helped the man off his knee. "Yes, yes, there's no need for that." Clem hated formality, ceremony and having his ring kissed.

The Reverend, taking that as permission, launched into his woes again. "Your Eminence, I am so glad you're here. You are not going to believe this, but I assure it's true. This man and his associates have kidnapped me. You must order this man to release me!"

"Release you Father? You do not appear to be constrained in any way. I can promise you that this man intends you no harm. Nor do the people he was with." Looking at Liam he went on, "Tommy sent Stephen's message over. I gather you had some difficulty today?" The faintest of requests for information was in the last.

"Stephen will be along soon I am sure." It was as bland as milk toast.

Clem nodded and having gotten a good look at the Reverend reached for his bell.

Gerald arrived on the instant, tray in hand trailing steam and piled with sandwiches. 

"Ah, Brother, yes. Would you mind taking our guest here to Brother Cletus and asking him to get him some dry clothes and anything else he needs to freshen up. I am sure he would like to get out of those wet things. They can't be good for him."

Brother Gerald nodded. "Probably could do with a spot of lunch as well, I imagine. I'll get him dried off and fed and then bring him back here." All of which conveyed to Clem and Liam that Brother Gerald would keep him busy until they were ready to see him again.

"Good, good. Father if you would just go along with Brother Gerald, I'm sure you'll feel much better very soon. Brother Gerald you might also let the Prior know I will probably not be at None today and ask him to take it for me."

Brother Gerald nodded. The Reverend was more demonstrative. "Of course, Your Eminence. As you wish. I place myself entirely in your hands" The Reverend knelt and tried to kiss his ring again. He just couldn't get a hold of Clem's hand, though.

"No, no, none of that.  It really isn't necessary." The tone was testy as Clem kept his hand out of range using the other to fend off the man's efforts at capture. "Off you go now,"

"Well," Clem said as soon as they were alone, "Are you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to wait for Stephen?"

"Probably should wait for him. There are complications, as I am sure you can imagine. But I can tell you The Reverend," with slightest bit of stress noticeable on the title, "saw and heard rather more than we'd like and, I gather, Stephen isn't quite sure what to do with him. He paused, clearly remembering, "As I recall, the only other time this problem came up was when we met you and that was different as I am sure you'll agree now that you've met the man. You are clearly of different caliber than The Reverend." Again the stress. But tell me, how the hell does he know you? Or rather about you, since I gather you've never met?

"A couple of possibilities come to mind that I'll have to investigate. Rome prefers that I keep a low profile. Like you and the Reverend, they don't quite know what to do with me most of the time. Did he introduce himself like that to you?"

"Oh yes, several times as I recall. I suspect he was concerned we didn't know who he was, if you take my meaning."

Clem did and let it go. Instead he poured tea and passed the sandwiches.

Liam studied Clem as he ate. What he saw wasn't bad, all things considered. A man who looked as if he were in his mid to late sixties. His close clipped hair and beard were graying, his face lined but not unattractively. He had bright blue eyes and a mouth that seemed always to be smiling, but that was a trick of the laugh lines. He was of medium height for a man, only about five feet ten inches tall and he was always dressed either in the Benedictine habit or clericals depending on where he was and what he was doing. People who met him quickly discovered he was frighteningly erudite with a questing intelligence that explained the book-lined room. People who knew him also knew he was also uncannily observant, made unexpected connections between diverse bits of information and could be trusted to keep secrets.

Liam had met him close to twelve years ago in circumstances somewhat similar to his meeting with the Reverend. It was Bosnia at the height of the ethnic cleansing. All around them could be heard the intermittent staccato of small arms fire punctuated by mortar and grenade explosions. In a house that had clearly been heavily attacked and was still sustaining occasional attentions of a similar sort Clem had been trying to save a woman's life when they'd arrived to save her as well. He was totally unfazed by their arrival. In the space of seconds they had discovered Clem was telepathic and over 1900 years old. He wasn't an Awakened, but he was something more than human. Not knowing what else to do with him they'd brought him along back to what was just the beginnings of what came to be known the Refuge after the title of the monastery.

That hadn't bothered Clem either. He had been more interested in who they were than anything else once he made sure the woman was being well cared for and would live. He'd been as fascinated by them as they were by him and openly delighted to meet them.

Clem, it turned, out had a roving brief from the Vatican to set up and maintain lines of communication with religious around the world, ensuring that the Vatican had inside information that was up-to-the- minute from every trouble spot in the world. He did a brisk business in refugee traffic as well, moving them from safe house to safe house like the underground railroad of old often using cloistered communities and obscure hermits.

Clem did this while ostensibly functioning as a high level Vatican official responsible for ensuring that catholic disaster aid and humanitarian effort around the globe functioned effectively and within Vatican guidelines. Clem, to put it bluntly, was a spymaster, and his agents were people who went everywhere, talked to anyone they wanted and knew more than most anyone else because their sources were not the government officials and their ilk. Clem listened to the masses and the man in the street. In doing so he frequently got his news first, fresh and with proof.

The other thing about Clem was his age. He'd been made a priest since he was in his early twenties, a bishop by forty and made cardinal in the late dark ages. He'd been passed on from one pope to the next, a highly guarded secret since no one could account for his longevity and everyone who knew about him knew he knew where all the bodies buried. He became a trusted aide, the man who solved delicate problems and handled messy situations for every pope since the fourth. As long as he was available when needed and kept a very low profile they let him do as he pleased.

He and Stephen now had a firm partnership based on mutual trust and respect first and advantage later. When they could within the framework of their separate vocations they helped each other out.  They shared a number of goals and had a similar need for privacy.

Clem had suggested that the monastery would be an ideal way to hide the presence of Listeners. Stephen had agreed and the Listeners had employed their gifts to build the original and most necessary parts of it. Clem then cut a deal with Rome and brought along a dozen monks who'd built the rest. Now the monastery was finished, there were close to thirty monks and almost as many nuns, the neighboring towns uncurious about all the activity in the area and everyone was happy. The monks farmed and made cheese and beer. The nuns made altar bread, remarkably potent assorted wines, and vestments. It worked perfectly.

Liam reached for another sandwich. "I don't think," He said, "that we will establish the sort of rapport we enjoy with you with the Reverend."

"No, I don't think you will. From what I know of him from the nuncio he is not an accommodating man."

"You know him?"

"No," Clem replied, "I don't know him personally. I do know something about the Knights of Christ and about why he's here in the states. But, "he went on, his tone one of mild amusement, "If I have to wait for Stephen so do you." And offering the plate he said, "Another sandwich?"