The Vatican Caper

How it went down

Thursday, April 17. Anacostia, District of Columbia.

A crummy apartment. Secretary of Homeland Security KRISTI NOEM dressed like a cop, but carrying a yellow Fendi bag, is surrounded by goons dressed like cops; they all stand around JESSE, a middle-aged black man in a running suit sitting very comfortably on a leather couch.

NOEM: So you’re sure this can do the job.

JESSE: [Points at one of the goons] He knows how good it is.

[NOEM looks at the goon, who nods.]

NOEM: Untraceable?

JESSE: Ain’t missed yet.

[NOEM opens the bag and takes out stacks of cash, tosses them in JESSE’s lap. JESSE examines these, pulls some bills out of a stack, holds them out to NOEM.]

Three grand. Count your change.

[One of the goons steps forward, takes the cash, hands it to NOEM. She and the goons wordlessly file out.]

Pleasure doin’ business.

Saturday, April 19, the Vatican.

A chapel with vaults and arches and whatnot, but dusty, with detritus, some old boxes, a sawhorse etc. JD VANCE in a nice suit, looking uncomfortable, sitting on a folding chair with another folding chair facing. CARDINAL PIETRO PAROLIN, in a black cassock with red trim, no sash, comes in from behind VANCE, taps VANCE on the shoulder; VANCE looks over the wrong shoulder, PAROLIN goes to the opposite chair, sits and crosses his legs. VANCE swivels his head, sees PAROLIN, does a double take, gets up, waves his hands in the air.]

VANCE: Eminence! Your eminence, I mean, hi, hello!

[VANCE kneels, immediately gets up.]

Sorry, I forgot the protocol.

PAROLIN: Sit, my son.

[VANCE does so.]

VANCE: Thank you for seeing me. It’s great, I’ve never been here before, all those paintings, I mean, wow. Thank you.

PAROLIN: How was your journey.

VANCE: Oh, great, I have my own plane, you know. Listen, [taps his jacket pocket] I have a little gift here for the Holy Father from the President, I was wondering when I could give it to him.

PAROLIN: His Holiness is unwell, I’m afraid.

VANCE: Oh. Well, darn it, OK. I mean I thought he was all better, darn.

PAROLIN: But he discussed with me your remarks on the faith the other day and has asked me to discuss them with you.

VANCE: He did? [Laughs] I, I hope His Holiness knows that, listen, I have a job to do. I’m the Vice President and, and I have to support the President who — and I say this knowing you won’t let it get around — he’s not what you would call a godly man.

PAROLIN: This is not about your employer, Mr. Vance, but your immortal soul.

VANCE: Oh gosh, listen, hey, I’m new to this religion, I mean the one true faith kind, and if I got some things wrong — oh, wait, is this confession? I have an index card with my sins on it.

PAROLIN: We will just have a little talk.

VANCE: OK, well, fire away. And afterward, maybe I can come back when the Pope is better and give him my little gift.

PAROLIN: First let us discuss the Ordo Amoris.

VANCE: Oh shoot.

Friday, April 18, Homeland Security building, Washington, Secretary’s office.

NOEM, wearing a Roopa Pemmaraju sunflower embellished gown, sits on a couch in a window alcove, on the phone.

THUGGISH VOICE: Ya do the thing?

NOEM: Yes. It’s up to him now

THUGGISH VOICE: Prob’ly make a big scene.

NOEM: Well, they’ll know who to blame.

[Ugly laughter on the other end.]

Saturday, April 19, the Vatican.

A passageway in the Papal Apartments. PAROLIN strolls; VANCE, dressed as before, steps out of the shadows and accosts him.

VANCE: Hi, your eminence!

PAROLIN: What the hell are you doing here?

VANCE: [Big smile] Check your phone, I’m on the calendar. Ten minutes but I’m gonna make it count. Oh, I’m so juiced to meet the Pope!

[Pause. PAROLIN checks his phone.]

And thanks for the talk, Eminence, like I said, I’m new and, and really, I hear you, you know the conflicts, city of God city of Man, they’re just –

PAROLIN: Come.

[PAROLIN walks, VANCE follows, rubbing his hands.]

Sunday, April 21, Oyamel, Washington, D.C.

NOEM, wearing an Oscar de la Renta pleated painted roses poplin midi-dress, is seated at a booth with some kids dressed like John Roberts’ children used to do. Suddenly NOEM looks at the seat next to hers. She stands up and yells:

NOEM: SECRET SERVICE!

[Two men fitting that description run to NOEM from the bar.]

Monday, April 22, The White House, Oval Office

TRUMP, in his usual suit, is on the phone, looks steamed.

TRUMP: So they got the money, so what? [Pause] What? Directions! You left them in the bag? Are you fucking stupid? My name better not be in there. You get me mixed up in this you’ll be one dead fucking hayseed bitch. You’re gonna need plastic surgery after I get through —

[Knock on the door.]

WHAT!

VOICE FROM OUTSIDE: The Vice-President.

TRUMP: Shit. [Into phone] Keep your mouth shut!

[VANCE walks in, takes a seat in front of the desk.]

VANCE: Mr. President, hello.

TRUMP: How ya doin’. Hey, shame about that Pope.

VANCE: Oh, yeah, well, maybe it’s all for the best. He was pretty left-wing. Rod Dreher tells me Jesus appeared to him in a dream and —

TRUMP: Listen, since you and I are friends, I figure I should let you know, there might be a problem with that little box you gave the Pope.

VANCE: [Crestfallen] The box.

TRUMP: Yeah. You probably want to get out in front of this thing —

VANCE: I never gave it to him.

[Small pause.]

TRUMP: You what?

VANCE: I meant to tell you. I thought I brought it with me to the Vatican but when I got there and took it out it was just a little box of Perugina I got at the airport. It was embarrassing but, well, since he’s dead I don’t think —

TRUMP: [Rising in his seat] You stupid fuck! So where’s the box? ‘cause I need that box back! You understand me, fuckface? I need that fucking –

[Suddenly emerging from an interior door is PETE HEGSETH, holding a little wrapped box inside an airtight clear plastic shell in one hand, and in the other a doggie bag from Oyamel.]

HEGSETH: [Slurring his words] Hiya, fellas. Hey — guess who’s not gettin’ fired today?