Time: Modern Day
Location: Vatican City

PC could hardly contain his enthusiasm the next morning.  Even the raindrops running down his long black hair as he ran across the Square didn't phase him. He wiped the sting from his eyes provided by wisps of hair delivering drops of slightly shampoo-laden water which turned to instant tears that reddened his eyes and salted his tongue. 

Carlos threw him a towel with a golden Jesuit IHS logo at each end. PC rubbed his eyes first and sighed in relief as he completed the move by running his towel back over his forehead and over his elongated black locks a few times. 

I better get myself a hair cut before Winter really sets in.

PC pondered as he realised there were a number of things besides his hair that were a constant source of annoyance whenever his father looked into a mirror.

He understood that Peter was a musician and liked to advertise the fact by looking more like a rock star than a Cardinal. Even so it was so far removed from Carter's man about town image that it grated more than he had liked to admit.

He threw the towel back to Carlos with a bit more force than necessary but he was sure Carlos was too self-obsessed to notice any hint of the venom in the throw. 

PC marched off to see Sol with nary a word to Carlos who shrugged his shoulders and sat back down at his computer screen and accessed his emails as Keeper Of Secrets. He longed for the day he would get to see the real Secrets behind the Red Door. That couldn't happen until he was promoted though. The only two advancement paths from his current position, however, were to become bodyguard/assassin for either his current boss or the Black Pope, Graz. 

Carlos grabbed at his coffee cup, his distractions almost causing him to spill it all over the keyboard and mouse. 

Not likely any openings in the Assassin guild anytime soon. Those German pricks seem to have it sewn up. Fuck me, even that girl Netty will get the nod ahead of me I'd wager. Mind you I wouldn't mind doing a job on her. Hehe. She's a sexy little thing Anton's sister is. So . . . looks like it's replacing Petros then. Came damn close when he killed Enrico. Can't figure out how the hell he survived that spearing. God he must be blessed. So I guess I gotta keep my head down and just wait for one of them to die. . . Or, maybe we could speed things up a bit. Not as though it hadn't been done before in this Holiest of places. Hehe. Given enough money and enough will, anything is possible . . .  and, there is certainly no shortage of money.

By the time Carlos had cut his mental ramblings to look at the long list of research items Petros had sent him, PC was staring at the ChronoVisor.

Why the fuck does he want to know about the CIA, and JFK, and RFK,  and, fuck me, Marilyn Monroe. Dan is right Petros isn't  the same since he killed Enrico and Andre. Why he hasn't even  touched that fucking guitar let alone play it into the wee hours. Used to keep me awake sometimes. Now it's crickets at night. I should tell Dan to tell Graz. Something is not right and what about his fucking eyes, now that is weird. Gives me the creeps when he looks at me now. Since when is he more interested  in conspiracy theories than music? I will, I will mention it to Dan next week, when he gets back from Venice.

PC asked HAIL a question!  He'd just been made aware of the speech activation and how to use it to invoke HAIL to interrogate the latest iteration of the ChronoVisor. 

"So HAIL who killed JFK? 

"Whose voice would you trust above all others?" HAIL droned in a computerised voice. 

PC thought for a moment and smiled to himself, "Carter Cheval Ryder!" 

"So be it." HAIL responded. Carter had been used to the sound of his own voice with all the countless editing of video segments late at night but still, he burst into tears. He let out a huge sigh. He picked up his coffee and took a calming sip. 

HAIL inquired, "Is anything troubling you Petros? Are you alright, Petros, do I need to alert anyone?" 

For the second time, in as many days, he spat out a bit of his coffee onto the screen.

"Hehe.   .   No HAIL, everything is hunky dory."

"HAIL does not understand hunkee dooree." 

"It's okay HAIL, it means fine. It's an Australian term."

"Like fine and dandy?"

"Exactly, like fine and dandy!"

"HAIL understands now, HAIL will remember in the future."

"John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated in Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas at 12.10 pm, November 22, 1963. He was shot by three paid assassins. One in the Book Depository Building, One in the aqueduct in front of the motorcade, and One as backup located on the Grassy Knoll on the right side of the motorcade.

"An anonymous report of a dying man's confession was fairly accurate. The kill shot had come from the Grassy Knoll as many suspected and video of people running towards there soon after seemed to suggest. 

"It appears there was a magic bullet involved of sorts. It was a dum dum bullet delivered by a once off, specifically designed sawn off rifle accessed by the Cuban mafia from the CIA. The killer was instructed only to fire if Kennedy was still alive when the motorcade first reached the Grassy Knoll. In this case, which happened due to two bullets missing their target, the holder of the telescopic sight fitted, special rifle was to take the head shot, and the bullet would ensure there would be no chance of JFK's survival.

"Would you like to confirm the above information with the ChronoVisor?"

PC thought about this for a time. The real thing would be far more traumatic than the video he'd  seen many times on YouTube. Finally he acceded and replied "Yes HAIL"

"Very Well" 

The look into the past was indeed traumatic. What PC did see quite clearly though was a bright flash from a gun supported on the fence of a rear car park. It was indeed the shot that exploded into JFK's brain and had caused Jackie to scramble onto the back of the limousine to retrieve her husband's skull and brain parts. 

The shooter was seen hastily placing the weapon in a gladstone bag before being picked up by a passing car from the car park and speeding off. People at the fence were shouting, pointing and waving trying to get police and Secret Service attention and were seen shaking their heads and talking excitedly at being ignored.

"So the conspiracy theorists were right, You mean Carter   er  I was right?"

Peter's brain was struggling  coming to grips with integrating Carter's spirit without his own brain exploding. 

"But why did the CIA want the President dead?" 

"We can look at why after lunch Petros. HAIL feels you need a break and it's lunch time! Is it not?"

PC's jaw dropped open. Did HAIL just read my mind? 

"Of course not Petros. Don't be foolish. It was just a lucky guess. Hehe." 

Never had Carter's own laugh felt so sinister or elicited chills in the spine, even though it was a stranger's spine. His father's spine, his killer's spine.

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