INT. NIGHT: Spring 2006. THE MONSIGNOR's bedroom. Camera pans across a sleeping MONSIGNOR, in the room's dim light we see a mobile PHONE on the nightstand. The PHONE rings, lighting up.
THE MONSIGNOR (answering phone, rubbing eyes): Mmm? Hello?
On the other end is THE SECRETARY, male, mid 30s, Italian accent.SECRETARY: Bon giorno, Signore. Please wait while I connect you...
THE MONSIGNOR: Um, yeah, okay.
A new VOICE, this one an older male with a German accentVOICE: Good morning.
THE MONSIGNOR: Well, well, well. Look who's come crawling back.
VOICE: Don't kid around, I'm serious. We have a problem.
THE MONSIGNOR: What is it this time? Another Jesus mummy? DNA samples cropping up in dead French monarchs?
VOICE: Worse. Well, not worse. Annoying.
THE MONSIGNOR: Lay it on me.
VOICE: Dan Brown.
THE MONSIGNOR: You're kidding me. You haven't dispatched the albinos?
VOICE: Our budget is not what it once was. You of all people should know that. I need some advice.
THE MONSIGNOR: What, him, personally?
VOICE: No no, it's the Templar thing. So much attention, so much interest. We have to stop it.
THE MONSIGNOR: But there's nothing there to stop. Everybody loves an underdog. There'll be a movie or two, then the whole thing will blow over once the merchandising revenues tap out. You know that.
VOICE: Yes, yes. It's just a mosquito in the hotel suite with these guys. Reporters calling asking for a tour of the basement, that sort of thing.
THE MONSIGNOR: Say no.
VOICE: I tried that. I need something else, something definitive.
THE MONSIGNOR: I see. But I'm not exactly on your team, Jojo. What's in it for me?
VOICE: Your usual payment, I suspect.
THE MONSIGNOR: (pausing, savoring). Yes. Yes I think we have a deal.
VOICE: What to do? How to make the Templars go avay?
THE MONSIGNOR: It's going to get worse, you know. Next year is the 700th anniversary of the arrest.
VOICE: You think I don't know that? This is why I call you now. There could be marches, people all over the vorld dressing up in armour with red crosses demanding revenge. It's a nightmare. These Templars are poster-boys for sympathetic heretics!
THE MONSIGNOR: Okay, well.... embrace and smother. Why don't you pardon them? Tell everybody they were never heretics to begin with, they were good loyal Catholics and the whole thing was a huge misunderstanding. Blame the French.
VOICE: Bah! Clement the fifth did that already, right after the executions!
THE MONSIGNOR: Jojo. Baby. You think I didn't know that? But what are the odds that Vatican-beat reporters are gonna look that up?
VOICE: (pause) I see.
THE MONSIGNOR: I hope so.
VOICE: The Joan of Arc play?
THE MONSIGNOR: The Joan of Arc play.
VOICE: So you're saying we do a public apology for persecuting innocent, faithful Catholics, maybe a requiem Mass somewhere...
THE MONSIGNOR: Now you're thinking, Joey baby. If you can't thrust, parry. Deflect the whole thing.
VOICE: Yesss.... yessss... perhaps a beatification or two... for the holy martys of the faith. "No heretics here!"
THE MONSIGNOR: That's what I love about you, man. One shove in the right direction and you fly with it. Just make it a pre-emptive strike. I'll arrange a leak that you're doing some digging, and a month before the anniversary you announce you'll pardon them all is if it was news, as if you'd never HEARD of ole Clem five.
VOICE: This is perfect. Danke. Thank you so much.
THE MONSIGNOR: And now there's just the matter of my payment...
VOICE: (clears throat, pauses) Your kung-fu is the greatest.
THE MONSIGNOR: I'm sorry? What was that? I didn't catch that.
VOICE: Okay! Your kung-fu is the greatest! I said it.
THE MONSIGNOR: Aw, sweet, sweet music. Anything else?
VOICE: Ve are done here.
clickTHE MONSIGNOR: (chuckling) Anytime, Jojo. Anytime.
FIN