Unexpected Interruption
A continuation of Unexpected Friendship.
While demurely sipping chilled iced tea from a tall crystal glass, Dorothy couldn't help but study the handsome young man sitting across from her. How fortunate was she that her traveling companion, Duo Maxwell, was not only pleasant to look upon, but was also proving to be very agreeable company?
Unfortunately, said companion routinely displayed behavior that set her teeth on edge. Presently, it was the obnoxious sound coming from the straw he was sucking in a desperate attempt to locate the last bit of tea in the bottom of his glass. It was one of several glaring Duo-isms, (as she referred to some of his more unsophisticated mannerisms) she was learning to tolerate. She watched him reach for the pitcher of iced tea and refilled his glass to the rim. For a moment she toyed with the idea of whether or not she should correct him on this small social faux pas, but then just as quickly decided against it. Duo's sometimes uncouth behavior was often balanced by his charm and natural charisma. His unpolished ways were a part of who he was; a person orphaned young, a rebel and independent soul. His lack of manners and unsophisticated ways, so different from how she was bought up, were even endearing at times.
Her attention wandered to the port window and the pattering of raindrops falling on the Isabella, providing a calming, pleasant sound. It had been a little over an hour ago when a bank of dark clouds came from out of nowhere to steal away the sun. Within moments it began to rain. The sudden, unexpected downpour chased them from off the deck to the galley, and here they were still. Captain McConnal had appeared in the galley shortly after to announce they were experiencing a small weather system which should pass within an hour or two at most.
A little over three weeks had passed since their departure from Santorini. They'd spent that time sailing around the Greek isles, stopping a various ports when necessary, but only long enough to restore their supplies. She and Duo had done little more that eat, sleep and lay about. The doctor attending him after his fall suggested continued rest and quiet to recover from his injuries. It seemed the doctor had been right, for once again, remarkably, for Duo appeared to be regaining his health back at a remarkable rate. Oh, he still moved a bit cautiously, due to cracked ribs, which she understood would take some time to heal. However, his eyes, torso and legs, black and blue after his fall down the staircase, defied time and nature by quickly vanishing. In fact, one week after leaving Santorini Duo was bruise free and looked as good as ever. Adding to that mystery, his sprained wrists and ankles also appeared very close to being completely healed, the swelling completely gone. She found this rapid recovery remarkable and more than a little perplexing.
As nonchalant as she could manage, she asked, "Duo, how is it you've healed so quickly in such a short time? I don't think I've ever seen anyone heal as quickly as you have."
The man shrugged then reached for a cookie from a decorated tin that sat in the middle of the table. "Not sure, but me and the guys have always healed faster than normal. Heero let it slip that the crazy docs injected us with something during our training."
He took a healthy bite of the shortbread cookie then shoved the rest into his mouth and chewed a couple of times before continuing. "Whatever the Mad Five gave us seems to help us heal faster than normal - physically, at least. Doesn't seem to work in dulling the initial pain of the injury or the emotional damage, though. Just ask Heero sometime about how he felt after blowing up his gundam. Believe me, he felt the pain of that dumb ass stunt, but he healed up well enough to fight again."
He stretched out his arm and stared at his wrist for a moment before adding, "My wounds are better, but I still have some aches, not to mention nightmares about falling down those stairs with my hands glued to that damn tray. Sometimes I dream my hands are cuffed behind my back, or that I'm carrying one of Quatre's priceless vases. No matter the different scenarios, the dream always ends with me falling down that damn staircase."
He reached for yet another cookie. At the rate he was going, she was sure the entire tin would be empty before she finished her tea. She would ask Ander to add a variety of cookies to the list of food to buy once they docked. If Duo enjoyed them so much, she would certainly indulge him. Besides, there was something pleasant about watching the man so thoroughly enjoy something as simple as a tea biscuit.
Bringing her thoughts back to what Duo said moments ago, she wondered how he could so easily dismiss the idea of the strange miracle drug he'd been administered. That he and the other pilots had been given something intended to quicken the healing process was nothing short of astonishing. What would a drug like that mean to the human populations of Earth and space? She had to know more.
"Good Lord, Duo, what could they have given you? I've not heard of any drug that enhances healing such as you and the other pilots experienced."
He shrugged. "No doubt about it, the docs were brilliant, but they didn't exactly tell us what they were up to. Well, not me or Trowa, anyway, seeing he wasn't the intended pilot of Heavyarms. Heero and Quatre, maybe even Wufei, might know a thing or two about what we were injected with. I figure whatever they gave us hasn't hurt any so why question a good thing, huh?"
She looked at him curiously. "If you do indeed have enhanced healing, how did you become so physically run down? If I'm not mistaken, you were very close to a physical breakdown when you quit Preventers. How could that be possible with this healing ability?"
There was that dismissive shrug again. "Maybe it doesn't work if you don't rest or eat properly, not to mention the stress level, " he guessed. "That's how I lived this past year. I wasn't wounded, just worn out, physically and emotionally." He grabbed another cookie and popped the entire thing into his mouth.
How in the world was this man slender, eating sweets the way he did?
Still chewing, he added, "But that's in the past, right? I'm getting healthier every day and we're on vacation having a great time."
She wondered for a brief moment if he was speaking truly or trying to convince himself he was 'having a great time.' She smiled and replied, "Yes, we are having fun." She had more questions to ask, but having changed the subject she gathered Duo was done with the topic. She had learned over the years it was better not to push.
Glancing out the port window again, she realized the rain had slowed to a drizzle. She hoped tomorrow would be better, weather wise. She looked back at Duo. "We should be docking sometime tomorrow. Do you think you're up to going ashore with me?"
Duo, reached for yet another cookie, brought it up to his lips and paused to answer, "Guess that depends on whether or not you tell me where we're going. Or am I supposed to guess when we get there? We've traveled north, that much I've figured out."
"I thought to surprise you," she replied, hoping he would be as excited about the next port as she was. "We're headed to Venice, Italy."
The man's eyes widened. "I've seen pictures of the place but haven't been there before. Quatre mentioned his family has a home somewhere around there and how much he enjoyed visiting the place." He popped the cookie in his mouth and around it he managed to say, "This could be fun."
"Indeed it will be. I thought perhaps we might tour a glass factory, have tea on the plaza and wander the canals in a gondola. There are also wonderful art galleries and delightful food to enjoy. Gelato is my favorite Italian dessert. You must try some."
Uncertainty flashed in the man's eyes. "Now that I think about it, those are the same things Quat liked about the place. Honestly, Dot, I'm not sure sipping tea or looking at paintings are the kind of things I'd consider fun." He paused, looked at her for a reply and must have sensed her disappointment because he then added, "But what the hell, if you want me to, I'll give 'em a try."
"Venice will be fun, I promise," she smiled back, elated with his willing attitude. She couldn't help herself from teasing him. "But let's agree, before we set foot on shore, to try not to sustain any injuries while there."
"Hey!" Duo put his hands up defensively. "It's not like I planned falling down the stairs," he grouched. "I was helped."
Dorothy chuckled. "I remember." She did so enjoy getting her traveling companion riled up, and intentionally tried to do so at least once a day. Which was an easy thing to do and most entertaining.
"Ander has made arrangements for us to stay in a hotel for the next two nights. After which, I hope you'll agree to accompanying me on the train to Florence, my most favorite city on the planet. Accommodations have been made for us to stay there for as long as we like. I wouldn't mind staying for a month or two, but I don't think we should tarry so long in one place. Perhaps another time."
With eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I'll bet there's a lot of museums in Florence also. Please tell me we aren't going to visit all of them?"
"Oh, we must!" She exclaimed. "Works from some of the greatest Italian masters are found in Florence."
He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his jaw on his upraised fist, looking much aggrieved. "That's all well and good, but one museum seems pretty much like another to me. Just so you know, I've got a bit of a short attention span for places like that. I can probably make it through one, but after that you'll need to count me out. Maybe Ander can step up and take my place."
Her excitement for their Italian visit diminished. Hoping to hide her disappointment, she nodded and replied, "I understand and promise not to force you to visit more than one museum... in each city." She had every intention of proving to her new friend she was a reasonable woman, one of her word. However, the first museum she would take him to in Florence would be her favorite, the Galleria degli Uffizi. She was certain she could ignite within him the same sense of awe and wonder she experienced when viewing the greatest paintings and frescos the world has ever known.
Duo suddenly stood. "The rain's stopped," he announced with a grin, then picked up his glass and downed the rest of his iced tea.
Just in time, she thought with a slight grin, noticing the tin of cookies was empty but for a few crumbs.
The Isabella docked just past noon the following day. The quay was filled with sailing vessels of all sizes, from humble skippers and fishing trollers to recreational crafts and yachts as magnificent as the Isabella. Above, the white, wispy clouds scudded across the pale blue sky and the day warmed as it progressed. Yesterday's rain was but a memory.
The two travelers stepped off the ship's plank and onto the dock, both dressed casually: Duo tugged self-consciously at his shirt. He was wearing khaki shorts and a white polo shirt - definitely not his usual choice of clothing. Both items were purchased and approved of by his hostess. Dorothy wore white capris, a royal blue silk blouse, white sandals and a wide brimmed straw hat that matched the purse slung over her shoulder. Perfect tourists, he thought glumly to himself. Honestly, he'd be more comfortable in his own clothes, but Dorothy was footing the bill for this vacation so he'd bow to her fashion wishes... at least for now.
Strolling towards a place called San Marco's Square, Dorothy outlined the itinerary for the afternoon, indicating they'd visit the local shops until three when they could check into their hotel rooms.
As they walked, she pointed out and described places of historical interest, and after an hour or so suggested they stop at a café in the square to have tea. While he occasionally enjoyed a cup of tea, he honestly couldn't understand the fascination she and Quatre had with the stuff. It was okay, as long as it had a couple of teaspoons of sugar and a plate full of cookies on the side. Today, however, he didn't think he could stomach another cup, so when they sat at the small table he ordered a cup of coffee instead. What he got wasn't exactly what he had in mind. It came in a very small cup and was ridiculously strong.
They sat at the table for a little over half an hour, watching the people and pigeons coming and going from the square. When Dorothy finally stood, he was more than ready to get moving. He was feeling antsy sitting still for so long, his heel almost worn out from rapidly tapping the pavement. How much caffeine was in that small bit of coffee?
They stopped to stand behind a small group of other tourists to gaze at a display of blown glass through a store window when Dorothy suddenly gasped and cried out with alarm, "My purse!"
Duo looked over his shoulder to see a dark haired boy hightailing it down the sidewalk, his shoulders hunched like he was hiding something.
Dorothy pointed in the boy's direction. "He took my purse, Duo."
"I'll get it," he said and took off after the boy. He wasn't too worried about catching the thief, even though his healing body complained at the sudden movements, letting him know he still wasn't one-hundred percent recovered. Stealing purses and wallets as well as food was how he'd survived his childhood. He knew and had successfully used all the tricks a thief's trade.
He grudgingly admitted the kid was actually pretty good. Experienced. His target ducked into several side streets, melted into crowds crossing bridges over the canals, of which there were many, and finally disappeared.
Duo stopped, having lost sight of the little thief, more than a little peeved by how winded he was from the run. Damn, his ribs ached. He glanced around, thinking the boy had to be hiding close by. From a distance and behind, he noted the boy was short, dark haired and not badly dressed. Unfortunately it was also the exact description of every kid he'd passed by, only maybe a bit smaller. He also noted the blue shorts, tan shirt, and the cowlick at the crown of his kid's head.
Having caught his breath, he began a systematic search of the area, looking behind signs, into stores, and anywhere else the boy could have hidden. Five minutes later he spied a small person crawling out from beneath a linen-covered table inside a nearby café. The boy with the cowlick dashed off, purse clutched to his chest.
"Got you now, punk," Duo muttered as he raced after the thief.
Halfway down the lane he saw the boy hand the purse off to a smaller, younger looking boy. That boy turned and disappeared down another cobbled street. Duo made the snap decision to follow the purse, consequently allowing the first boy to escape. The younger boy turned yet another corner and Duo rapidly closed the gap. He was five feet away when the boy glanced over his shoulder and realized he was being pursued. He let out a strangled cry just as Duo sped up, then leapt forward to grab hold of the boy's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
The boy screeched long and loud in Italian, a language Duo didn't understand but instinctively knew the kid was cursing him. When his struggles and swearing didn't gain him his freedom, the kid changed tactics. He began to cry and tossed Dorothy's purse across the ground, no doubt hoping to gain his freedom if or when his captor went after it.
Spinning the boy around, Duo bent to look him in the eyes and shook his head. "No," he firmly stated the universally understood word. The boy continued wigging, trying to break his hold, but he did stop his caterwauling.
"Sir, is there a problem?" Duo looked up to see a man in a tailored gray suit addressing him, his accent indicating English was not his first language.
"Yeah, this kid is part of a team of purse snatchers. That purse over there belongs to my friend."
The man looked concerned. "Let me get that for you," he offered. He went to the purse, picked it up then returned and handed it to Duo. He then offered, "Shall I call the police?"
Duo thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, no harm done now that I have the purse. But I'll take the kid back with me so he can apologize to my friend for his buddy."
The man nodded. "As you wish. You are American, yes?"
"From the colonies," Duo replied.
The man looked thoughtfully at the boy. "Such a pity, to be a thief at such a young age. And you say he has an accomplice? One must wonder if their lives are that difficult or if they steal merely on a dare?"
Duo gave a mental shrug. The street kids he'd lived with had been thieves out of necessity. Solo, only a few years older, supervised and looked out for them. But he was familiar with being dared to do something risky or stupid. He'd fallen for it a few times and barely got away.
Still gripping the struggling thief, Duo said, "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my friend."
"Of course," the man said with a polite smile and nod of his head. "A good day to you, sir." He turned and walked swiftly down the lane. Duo watched him go, wondering for a moment if he'd just met the adult in charge of the little thieves. He'd have to watch his back, keep an eye out as he returned to Dorothy and make sure the man didn't try to retrieve the kid or the purse.
He tightened his grip on the kid's upper arm and pulled. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get moving." He turned and retraced his steps back to where he'd left his traveling companion, dragging the unhappy boy along.
It took him a bit longer to return to San Marcos Square than he'd anticipated. He took a wrong turn or two, but thankfully it didn't take him long to realize his mistake and correct it. He'd also been stopped by a few people, seemingly questioning him by pointing to the boy, probably wondering why he was forcefully hauling him around. His simply reply of 'thief' seemed to be another one of those universal words. The would be do-gooders responded by shaking their heads and turning away.
Maintaining a tight grip on the boy's upper arm, Duo searched the area where he'd last seen Dorothy. Not seeing her anywhere, he muttered, "Where the hell are you?" Had she ducked into a shop? She didn't have her purse, so that didn't make much sense.
He stood there for another ten minutes, wrestling with the boy who was losing his fear and actively trying to wiggle free. With each passing moment Duo's fear for Dorothy's well-being mounted. Damn, he couldn't even call her cell phone. He'd checked the contents of the purse to make sure her wallet was inside and noticed her cell phone was there also. Something was definitely wrong here, and whatever it was, it couldn't be good. He glanced over the plaza once more then pulled the kid with him into the nearest shop.
"Police?" he asked a clerk.
The man, twenty-ish, dark hair and olive skinned, looked first at him, then at the boy. He frowned, shook his finger at the boy and began scolding him. At least the tone of his voice suggested scolding. "A moment," the clerk said, surprising him with his English. Pulling a cell phone from out of the back pocket of his trousers, he dialed a number. A moment passed before he began speaking rapidly in Italian. Then taking the phone from his ear, the man disconnected the call and looked up at him with an apologetic smile. "You stay. Polizia come here soon."
"Thanks a lot, man."
Less than five minutes later a uniformed man entered the shop. Wearing pale blue pants with a thin purple strip down the leg and a white shirt covered by a dark blue jacket, he peg him for the policeman he'd been waiting for. The man wasn't tall but was slender and fitting looking and carried himself with an air of a someone in charge. Duo guessed him to be around forty years old. The clerk greeted the officer them pointed in his direction. The officer stepped towards him, his eyes focusing on the young boy, a deep frown on his face. He stopped in front of the little thief and spoke sternly to the him. Duo was surprised when the officer call the boy Vitto. He obviously knew the kid.
Looking up, the officer then asked him in broken English, "You are English, yes?"
"American, kind of. Do you speak English?"
"Yes, I speak English well enough. This boy is a known thief. He has robbed you?"
"He accepted my friend's stolen purse from another kid, the real culprit. But I'm afraid something else is going on here. My friend is nowhere to be found. I ran after the thief and left her behind, on the sidewalk outside the glass store. She wasn't there when I returned."
"Perhaps she went ahead of you to where you are staying?"
That thought had occurred to him, but he'd dismissed it. He was fairly certain Dorothy wouldn't have left him to wonder where she was, and he said as much to the officer.
"Here, can you hold the kid?" Duo asked as he pushed the boy towards the uniformed man. "Let me make a quick call back to our ship." Once both hands were free he pulled his cell phone out and searched his contacts for the newest entry. He dialed and spoke to Captain McConnel, asking if he'd seen or heard from Dorothy. The man said he hadn't, and asked what was going on.
"I'll call you back." There was no doubt in his mind that something had happened to Dorothy. She always kept her crew informed about her plans.
Turning to the officer, who was now struggling to hold the squirming thief, he said, "My friend and I arrived here a little more than two hours a ago. We shopped, had tea, then stopped in front of the store across the street with a display of glass figures. The boy grabbed her purse and ran, and I followed in pursuit. Now she's missing. Has anything similar happen to other tourists?"
The officer frowned, said something sharp to the wiggling boy, then turned back to Duo. "I think it would be best if you come with me to the Questura."
He wondered what the hell a Questura was? Well, it didn't matter because what other option did he have but agree? He followed closely behind the officer as they left the shop and walked rapidly through several twists and turns of the lanes leading away from the famous San Marcos Square.
Five minutes later they arrived at an old but well-kept brick building with the name Questura in bold print over the doorway. It was obviously a police station. On first impressions, the police station seemed small in comparison to the rather largely populated, tourist-filled city. Once through the front door, he noted several people sitting on a long wood bench situated to the left of the doorway. A high desk with a uniformed woman was situated between the bench and the doorway behind. He guessed those on the bench to be tourists, given their nationalities: an Asian couple and a couple of Scandinavian youths, two boys and a girl, each carrying backpacks.
"Please wait," the officer said and motioned to the bench.
"You have two minutes," Duo informed him. "Then I'm going to tear this city apart until I find my friend."
The other man gave him a disapproving glance, but said nothing as he turned and led the still struggling, loudly complaining youth down the hall and out of sight.
Irritated and worried, Duo couldn't sit, so he began to pace while waiting for someone to come and tell him what the hell was going on. Fortunately for every one present, he didn't have long to wait long. An older man in uniform with streaks of white at his temples standing out in contrast to the black hair, appeared and raised a hand, motioning for him to follow. The officer who had delivered him to the Questura reappeared without the boy and walked passed them with an acknowledging nod of his hand and proceeded out the front door, undoubtedly back on duty.
Though grateful for his help, Duo dismissed the man from his mind and followed the older man as they moved down the door-lined hallway to the last office on the right. They entered the small, cramped but tidy room and the officer turned to Duo and motioned to a nearby chair. "Please sit."
This time he did take a seat at the chair situated in front of the lone desk. The other man moved around it to sit in an old and worn looking leather chair. Duo gave the man his full attention, hoping the local police had some information if not answers for him. His gut feeling was that Dorothy was in trouble and needed to be found as quickly as possible. If he was wrong, all the better.
He mentally cursed himself at how lax and soft he'd become. He should have known better than to leave her alone while chasing down the thief. It was, in his mind, the perfect deflect and snatch routine he'd used and witnessed many times during his childhood on L2.
He put aside his thoughts for a moment, realizing the man across the desk was studying him. He returned the man's thoughtful gaze, noting his brown eyes were clear, focused and intelligent.
In a deep voice and, to Duo's relief, near perfect English, the man introduced himself. "My name is Questore Vicente Boveri. Also the Inspectorate of Pubblica Sicurezza, which in English translates to Inspector of Public Security for this city. I have been told of your missing girlfriend and that you apprehended a boy involved in the theft of her purse. Please, tell me who you and your missing friend are."
"I'm Duo Maxwell, former Preventer and traveling companion, not boyfriend, to Dorothy Catalonia, an heiress and close friend of Relena Peacecraft."
The man's eyes widened slightly at this information before narrowing. "This can be verified?"
Duo leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing on the inspector. "Listen, you don't have time to verify who we are. My traveling companion is missing, for all I know her life is in danger, so every moment counts. If word of my friend's disappearance gets out, you'll have Preventers breathing down your neck. Their presence here and an open investigation will no doubt affect tourism for a while. "
The older man paused, probably picturing how a crew of Preventers would stir up his city and the fallout from the kidnapping of Relena Peacecraft's friend. Taking a deep breath, the officer came to a decision.
"Tell me, Mr. Maxwell, exactly when and how you came to our city. Please trace your steps from that point." The man turned to his computer and after a few clicks began entering information as Duo began speaking.
"We sailed into port about two hours ago on a private yacht, owned by Miss Catalonia. Together we strolled from the harbor to the San Marcos square and had tea at a café before heading towards our hotel, where we planned to stay for a few days."
He then described the events of the purse snatching and his chase through the streets, the handoff and capture of the boy who was brought in. He also mentioned the man in the suit, who'd taken an interest in what he was doing.
"Please describe this person for me?"
The officer continued typing as Duo described the polite but curious man he'd met. If the officer recognized the man from his description, he didn't let on. Having finished, Duo sat back and waited for the Inspector to finish his report. He could only hope the officer had something to tell him. Anything would be helpful at this point.
The tapping on the keyboard finally stopped and the officer sat back in his chair. With a serious expression and a no-nonsense manner he said, "We have had several incidents of wealthy individuals being kidnaped by trickery before. Not exactly as you described, with the snatching of a purse, but other clever means used to separate the person from those they traveled with.
"As you must know, Venezia has many visitors daily from all over the world. Because of this we have always had our share of thieves. Some try to steal famous artwork, and others who attempt to steal wallets and purses from distracted travelers. No week goes by without a report of thievery in hostels and hotels. In the last three months, a new type of thievery has appeared. It appears a group of thieves have decided petty theft is no longer rewarding. They have targeted wealthy travelers, four that we know of, and possibly more who declined to report the crime.
"I believe, from piecing together those four victims' accounts of their ordeal, they may have been selected by someone watching inbound traffic: the harbor, train station and airport, judging their victims wealth by the size of ship that sales into port or private jets or luggage. Once they have acquired their target by some trickery, they contact the families or corporations and demand a ransom. In some cases the ransom has been paid. In others, the victim has emptied a good portion of their bank account to gain their freedom. In every case the money has gone to the kidnappers and the victims were released. All four victims were found in a state of great confusion, very disoriented. Medical tests reveal each had been drugged and had little to no memory of what had happened."
The older man leaned forward in his chair and continued. "We have no suspects and no descriptions of the kidnappers, other than their initial contact. This is not the first time a group of children have been used."
Disappointed by this news, Duo asked, "Do you know who the man in the suit was? The one who took an interest in the boy I apprehended?"
"Not by your description. We have many business men in the city who look exactly as you described. Perhaps you can run through some of the photos we have of known criminals."
"That's not gonna happen," Duo shot back, decidedly unhappy with how long this interview was taking. "Time is of the essence here. I know how long it takes to go through those books, and that's time I don't have to waste. I need to find my friend as quickly as possible. You have the boy I brought in. Question him and get him to lead us to the kid who initially stole the purse. Better yet, let me talk to him. If Dorothy has been kidnaped, those boys were part of the plan but not the brain of the operation. There has to be someone above them who orchestrates everything. Get me a name and, whoever they are, I will find them and free my friend."
The man studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I have one of my inspectors questioning the boy now. Shall we see if he has made any progress?"
"Let's go," Duo said, jumping to his feet and moving towards the door. He stopped just outside to let the officer lead the way. They walked back down the linoleum hallway to the first door next to the lobby. Entering the room Duo saw the boy curled up on the metal chair munching on a very large apple. The officer, younger than the Questore and in a similar uniform, was sitting on a chair next to the boy and stood up as they entered the room. He spoke in Italian to his superior, who then in turn interrupted what was said.
"He tells me the boy has not said anything useful, but that he is very hungry. He gave him an apple from his lunch."
"Send your man out for a sandwich for the kid," Duo said while smiling at the boy who returned his gaze warily. "Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with him... with your help, of course."
The Questore spoke to the younger officer and the man quickly left the room. Duo moved to take the vacated chair next to the boy. The wariness in the boy's eyes intensified.
"Hey, kid. My name's Duo. What's yours?" He gave the Questore a questioning look and held the man's gaze until the man began to translate his words in Italian.
The worried looking child hunched protectively over his partially eaten apple as if he was afraid it was going to be taken away. Which it was an instant later.
Duo held the snatched apple in his hands. He rubbed the uneaten part against his shirt, then took a big bite out of it. "Good apple. Thanks, kid."
The shocked, wide-eyed boy began protesting in a high-pitched voice.
"What?" Duo feigned surprise. "You don't want to share with me?"
He waited for Boveri to translate his words before continuing. "I happen to be very good at sharing. Tell you what, every time you answer a question, I'll give you a bite of the apple. If I don't like your answer, I'll take a bite, a big one."
Taking a second large bite out of the apple Duo purposely chewed slowly while the boy protested loudly. Leaning forward, still chewing, he looked intently at the boy and firmly demanded, "Where's the mark been taken?"
After hearing the question translated, the boy pressed himself further into his chair and shook his dark haired head. There was a look of fear in his eyes that Duo recognized.
"Come on kid, you can tell me. This will be just between the two of us. Well, and this guy here." He nodded towards the translator. "I just want my friend back. Lead me to her and I'll let you go."
Even though he didn't speak Italian, Duo understood the boy saying he couldn't tell him. No, again that universal word.
"You've got a problem, kid," he said, sitting back in his chair and eyeing the apple. "You're an accomplice to kidnaping, which means you are in big trouble. If anything happens to my friend, I'll see to it that you never get out of prison."
The boy listened to the translation, his eyes widening with worry and then fear. Those big brown eyes shifted from the officer to Duo and back again. Boveri nodded, indicating what Duo said was true.
Words suddenly burst from the boy, in a frantic manner.
The Questore listened until the boy paused, then reported, "He says he, his brother and a few friends were approached by a man who promised them a lot of money. The boys are simple thieves, and that's exactly what the man wanted. He calls himself Boss, most likely a title, not a name. This man selects the target and tells the boys what to do. He is the planner. As directed, his brother snatched your lady's purse to separate you from her. They're not sure what happens to the person after that. He says they always keep what's in the purse, briefcase or wallet, then dispose of it. The man finds them several days later and gives them each an additional fifty lire."
Duo looked at the Questore. "How much money do the kidnappers ask for in ransom?"
"Five hundred thousand lire. Enough for a rich person to relinquish without pressing them enough financially to go to the authorities. I have only received four complaints about this crime. I suspect there have been many more."
"How can I find this man?" Duo asked the boy.
The officer translated and the boys answered the question with a shrug.
As a kid and thief on the streets of L2, he'd have made it his business to follow anyone who wanted to include his gang in a scam like this. Checking out where they lived, what the angles were to the scheme and, most importantly, discovering why they would hire a gang of kids to do the dirty work. These facts would have been essential footwork before getting involved and risking their necks. Survival of a gang depended on being cautious. That had been Solo's approach and it had kept them from becoming a scapegoat for some smug, petty criminal.
"Who is the leader of your group and where can I find him?" he asked the boy.
Just then, the former questioning officer reentered the room with a sandwich in hand. Duo sighed at the interruption but held out his hand. He briefly expressed his thanks when the man handed it to him and proceeded to removed the wrapper. Bringing the sandwich to his nose, he took a quick sniff before lifting the edge of top slice. Some kind of cheese and salami were sandwiched between. Not his favorite, but he was pretty sure it would please the boy.
"You want this?" he asked, holding the sandwich just out of the boy's reach.
The boy listened to the translation and nodded. He held out both hands, his brown eyes glistening with anticipation.
"Tell me where I can find the leader of your group?"
After hearing the translation, the boy drew back and shook his head.
"Listen, kid. I'm not going to hurt anybody. You boys helped someone kidnap my friend, but the guy that set this up is the one I'm interested in. You're being used, and if I don't find him, you and your brother are gonna take the fall for this."
The boy listened to the Questore, his eyes widening with horrified understanding. Duo pressed his point.
"This is an old set up, where the mastermind stays in the background while someone else takes the risks. This time you've been identified as the primary suspects in kidnaping and extortion and you were caught. Without the planner of this operation, you will be tried in a court of law and will most likely spend many years in jail while the guy that put you up to it will find someone else to be his patsy." Duo leaned forward, offering the boy the sandwich as he continued. "Lead me to this guy and you, your brother and pals will be off the hook."
The Questor stopped translating. He looked at Duo, a deep, disapproving frown on his face. "I think it is not your place to make such promises, Mr. Maxwell. This boy is an accessory to a serious crime."
Glancing over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, he asked the older man, "Are you telling me you wouldn't cut him a deal in order to get the guy behind this whole operation?"
"I repeat; you are not in a position to arrange such things." The man turned his attention to the boy, his eyes disapproving, then narrowing to a glare of accusation.
Questore Boveri spoke sternly to the boy in Italian, his finger wagging inches in front of the child's nose. Duo could only catch a couple of familiar sounding words yet had no idea if the boy was being scolded or threatened. He leaned back in his chair back and let the two have at it. The now one-way conversation continued and the boy seemed to be cracking, if just a little. His lower lip trembled slightly. He wondered if this was an act or the real deal. He'd employed that tactic himself when he was younger than this boy, having learned early that crying and pleading often lead to a more positive outcome when used on women of all ages and men too impatient to deal with a noisy brat. He inwardly smiled at that thought. He had been a handful, to Solo and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. More than once Solo had labeled him a smart mouthed brat. The good father and sister were too genteel to call him names, but he'd seen the signs of having often pushed them a bit too far.
Those memories caused burning regret to well up inside him. This wasn't a new experience, but one he often felt when thinking too much about his past. He should have treated all of those dear people better, tried harder to follow their examples. Well, he did follow Solo, learned to steal, run and hide, better than most kids on the street. From Father Maxwell and Sister Helen he learned things other than street smarts and physical survival. They showed him by gentle words and example how to be a better person.
The rather loud conversation came to an abrupt end and Duo took a deep breath for whatever came next. He was done talking. It was time to find Dorothy and knock some heads together.
"So what's been decided?" he asked, looking to the Questore for an answer.
"The boy says he doesn't know the man's name, but his brother followed him one night and discovered where he lives."
"How do we find his brother and get him to cooperate?"
A few more words were exchanged between the older man and boy. "His brother will have moved on. After they finish with their task, they follow a routine of their own. If the morning is free, they go to the airport, follow a mark and steal something. Another group will show up at the wharfs and follow the same routine. After which, if the day is still young, they try their luck at the train station. That's where Vito says we will find his unsuspecting brother."
"I know what he looks like," Duo said as he stood. "Since I'm no longer considered an officer of the law, I'll probably need one of your men to accompany me and make the arrest. We'll find his brother, bring him in and get the address from him."
The Questor nodded, then barked over his shoulder, "Tony!"
The thumping of fast moving footsteps grew in volume. A man in uniform rushed into the room. He stopped and blinked as he took in the boy and the long haired man in the Questor's presence.
Paulo was introduced in English as Officer Puccinelli. The Questor added, "All of my officers speaks English, some better than others, I'm afraid."
After explaining his role in Italian, officer Puccinelli nodded. "The boy comes with us?"
"He comes with us now," Duo said, grabbing hold of the lad's arm and hauling him out of the chair. "Let's go."
They got outside without too much fuss, the boy was now more pliant under Duo's firm grip, probably because he'd already ratted his gang out and had a full belly.
"Where's the train station?" he asked the officer.
"On the other side of the city," the officer replied. "Come, there is a faster way." He pointed left then took off at a very brisk walk. Duo, glad to be moving, followed a few steps behind Puccinelli with the boy, firmly held in his grip, having no choice but to run in order to keep up.
Though he was in motion, he wondered what the hell was happening with Dorothy? It had been less than an hour since she'd been lured off the streets. Surely the kidnapper wouldn't hurt her, not with a large ransom as his goal. Unfortunately, Dorothy didn't have any family to ransom her. He had no idea who her next of kin was. From their conversation it sounded like she didn't have any family left, just staff. He guessed that wasn't so unusual. He didn't have anyone either. Even amongst his friends, only Quatre had a family. The poor guy had more sisters than any man should be have to deal with, and all of them older and with definite opinions on how he should live his life. And, yeah, Trowa had Cathy, that weird knife-throwing lady who claimed him as a brother during the war. He wasn't sure if that was true or not, but Trowa didn't seem to mind so he didn't let it bother him.
Come to think of it, maybe being on his own wasn't such a bad thing after all.
They rounded the street corner and he realized they'd come to a canal with what looked like a police boat. The officer in front jumped into the boat and motioned for them to follow. Puccinelli loosened the ropes from the moorings, then turned and pulled a key out of his pocket. He put it in the ignition and gave it a turn. The engine roared to life then slowly settled into a low rumble. The officer, at the wheel, eased the boat away from the landing and into the canal. Small boats and gondolas dotted the waterway, but the official speed boat easily navigated around them, quickly making its way to the other side of the city.
Though his watch said the trip took only seven or eight minutes, it felt like an hour has passed. The anxiety he felt for his traveling companion seem to intensify with each passing moment.
The boat docked, the engine stopped, and Puccinelli jumped out to tie the boat to the dock. Duo, still tightly gripping the boy's upper arm, followed, knowing this was the most likely time for the kid to try and slip away... if he could. He wasn't about to let that happen.
As he'd anticipated, the boy tried to slip out of his T-shirt, a move he himself had successfully employed in the rare instances he'd been caught. Using his other hand, he gripped the shirt at the back of the boy's neck and knotted it around his hand, eliminating any chance the kid was going to slip his head out.
Leaning over and giving the boy a good look at his face, he gave him his most menacing smile. "Nice try, kid. But you'll have to do better than that if you want your freedom. The best thing you can do for yourself is lead me to your brother. If he cooperates, I'll put in a good word for you with the Questore. Got that? If not, I'll make sure you regret not cooperating."
The boy's belligerent glare didn't soften, but he must have understood his threatening tone because he nodded his head that he understood. Just as he figured, the kid did understand some English. He'd been playing dumb, a stunt he would have tried if were their positions were reversed.
"Let's go. If you see your brother, point him out."
Looking at the officer, Duo said, "When the time comes, I'll go after the brother, you hold onto this one, tightly."
The man nodded and the three walked towards the train station.
They circled around from the side of the building, and Duo could see a train moving slowly towards the station on the northern track.
"Where does your brother go to search out the mark?" he asked, his eyes roving the area.
He boy listened to the translation and answered in Italian. Officer Puccinelli translated in English. "He'll be at one end of the track or the other. He looks for someone traveling alone or with distracting children, Someone with expensive looking luggage or designer purses, though not locals."
They entered the terminal - a large, spacious building of considerable age but in very good condition. Duo led the two to the windows facing the rail yard, where travelers were standing around, preparing to disembark. He scanned the southern end just as the arriving train approached and the porters readying themselves to receive the departing passengers. No sign of a lone teenager there. With a hand still gripping the boy's t-shirt, he pulled him towards the main entrance. Glancing towards the other end of the station he watched the slow-moving train come to a full stop. Again, he failed to see any sign of the kid who'd lead him a merry chase earlier.
Bending to look into the younger boy's eyes he hissed, "Where is he?"
The boy began to speak in broken English. "He hides, there." He pointed outside towards the northern end of the building.
"Take him," Duo said to Puccinelli, roughly handing the boy off. He waited only until he was sure the man had a good grip on the little thief before taking off. A quick scan around the area showed him there was no other door to the train platform other than the two visible, an entrance and exit. With no time to circle around and climb the fence in an attempt to catch the boy unawares, he walked quickly out the main door and immediately turned to his left. Staying close to the building, he hoped the boy would be too intent on the disembarking passengers to notice his approach.
Sure enough, the same boy he'd chased earlier was leaning casually against the side of the building, unobtrusively studying the passengers as they stepped off the train, looking for his next mark. The boy stood still, but his head turned as passengers moved up and down the long line of cars, never glancing at the building. A mistake Duo would not have made when he was half this boy's age and picking pockets, and one this boy was about to regret. As he got within a few feet, the boy glanced at him, but Duo faked a wave to a non-existent person down the line, distracting the teen. When the boy turned to see who he'd been waving at, Duo closed the distance between them and grabbed the shirt, close to the neck.
"Gotcha'" he growled and the thief immediately began struggling to get away. Tightening his grip, he made it impossible for the kid to slip his head out of his shirt. The boy was good and caught. That didn't necessarily mean the kid accepted the situation. The brat began yelling, causing many of the passengers to look at them with alarm written on their faces.
Duo had no idea what the boy was saying, but he was pretty sure it wasn't flattering. A man dressed in a business suit stepped forward, looking like he was going to intercede, Duo growled, "Policia." The man nodded and moved on. Pinching the boy's shoulder, a grip he knew to be painful, he waited until the kid shut up and felt him tremble under his grip.
"I've got your brother," he whispered tersely to the boy. "Come with me now or he's going to be spending the next couple of years in juvie."
The boy's glare was identical to the one in custody, proving they were indeed related.
Pulling the young thief along, he re-entered the train terminal and rejoined the officer and his charge. "Let's get out of here."
Officer Puccinilli was smart enough to simply nod and follow behind as Duo led the unhappy youngsters through the crowd and back to the boat.
Once on board, Duo sat between both boys, his hands clutching their shirts at the neck while the officer piloted them back to the original dock at a speed more normal for the canals. During the short trip, he told the older boy what he wanted and what would happen if he didn't cooperate. By the time the boat docked he had the boy's sullen assurance that he would lead him to the home of the man they called Boss."
After depositing the youngest boy back at the station, Duo, accompanied by Puccinilli and two other officers, followed the older boy's directions as he lead them to a tall and stately home, only two short blocks from where Dorothy's purse had been snatched. The yard was walled off with ivy leaching over the top edge of the brick edifice. The wall itself was not typical from what he'd seen of other residences in the city. Then again, he hadn't seem much of the city since arriving, had he?
The residence and surrounding area was calm and quiet, suggesting no one was home. He had already decided that if Dorothy wasn't inside, he was going to have to call for reinforcements. Of course, that was the last thing he wanted to do. No way did he want to call for assistance and alert everyone as to where he was and that he couldn't handle a simple purse snatching/kidnaping crime.
"Is there another way in?" he asked.
The boy nodded and pointed towards a small garden area to the right side of the building. The gate was locked, which was never a problem for him. Putting one of the other officers in charge of the boy, he pulled a pick out of his braid and proceeded to open the heavy metal mechanism imbedded in the metal gate. A loud click sounded and he turned to see the three men watching him were wearing disapproving frowns. He simply shrugged, replaced the pick and threw his braid over his shoulder. With a wave of his hand he motioned the others to follow.
The small group moved quietly though the beautiful manicured garden where a great variety of greenery and flowers grew amongst fountains and statues set alongside the cobblestone path. This was unlike any of the locations he'd found previous kidnaped victims while working as a Preventer. He'd recovered them from empty garages, warehouses, barns, and cellars, but never a fancy home like this one.
The boy silently led them to a side entrance framed by a lattice arch covered with small yellow roses. The sound of buzzing bees seemed to surround them as they approached the door. He noted a security camera above the doorway. Damn, there wasn't anything they could do about that at the moment. He ducked under the humming floral arch and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Sloppy, he thought to himself. If this guy was as organized as the police thought he was, why was his security so lax?
One of the officers began speaking rapidly. "Sir," the English speaking office stopped him with a hand on his arm. Duo turned to him with a questioning look. "We do not need a warrant, per say, but citizens have certain rights. We must call out first to announce ourselves and our intention. It is a newly adopted city law."
"That's a crappy law, if you ask me," he replied turning back to the door and pushing it open very carefully. Damn, what he wouldn't give to have his gun in hand. "Do any of you carry a gun?" he asked as he stepped into the inside landing of a narrow staircase.
Feeling a tap on the outside of his hip and he reached back to grab the object, never taking his eyes off the entry. He gripped a solid bar and glanced down as he drew it forward. A billy stick. Well, it was better than nothing, he supposed. With the black club in hand, he climbed the stairs. The house was still, though there seemed to be some sound coming from somewhere above them.
"Polizia," he called out loudly. "Is anyone here? We're coming in." Having satisfied the local requirements, he rushed into the house and began a visual room-to-room search for Dorothy, starting on the first floor. He could hear the rest of his party following cautiously behind. Taking in every detail, he noted the downstairs was decorated with the taste of a rich person. He'd been in the homes of Quatre and Relena and recognized the same style. Expensive furniture, drapery, flooring. But mostly it was the beautiful artwork on the walls, tabletops and mantlepieces. Again a noise came from upstairs. Throwing caution out the window, he dashed up the carpeted steps to the second floor. After another quick search it also appeared empty of inhabitants.
"Attic?" he called to the men following behind him. "Does this type of building have an attic?"
"Sometimes, sometimes not," one of the officers replied unhelpfully.
"How would you gain access if there was one?"
The three officers conferred together quietly, while the boy in custody looked wide-eyed at the lovely home. Then the office one who spoke English said. "We'll each take a room and call out if we find an opening. They immediately split up, leaving Duo in the hall with the young thief. Frustrated, he looked up to the ceiling and called out. "Dorothy! Can you hear me?"
A loud banging on the ceiling above was definitely a reply. "Hold on, we're looking for a way up," he shouted as his frustration melted into relief.
A shout in Italian had him jogging down the hall, pulling the boy with him, and into a large room filled with mahogany antique furniture polished to a glossy shine. The officer who had called out was pulling down a ladder from inside the room's closet. Duo shoved the boy in his direction as he leapt up the rungs, anxious to free his traveling companion, having pictured her being tied up and gagged to some kind of a chair.
But as he pushed up the latch and poked his head into the access entry, his eyes widened with disbelief. He blinked, then blinked again to make sure he was seeing correctly."
"You certainly took your sweet time getting here," Dorothy said irritably, blowing out a puff of smoke as she spoke. It was only then that he noticed she had a small cigar in her right hand, that she'd obviously been smoking. She appeared to be unharmed, but what was most unusual was the fact that she was currently sitting on top of a man who was sprawled out on the floor, face down and unmoving. He appeared to be unconscious He also noted Dorothy's left hand held what looked like a leg from a chair. Most likely the damaged one laying on its side on the floor behind her.
A deep voice questioning him from below, reminded him he wasn't alone. "She's up here and it looks like everything is under control," he told the group standing at the bottom of the ladder staring up at him, waiting for instructions.
Having climbed off the ladder, he moved towards her. "Are you alright?"
She raised on pale eyebrow at him. "I'm a lot better than this idiot."
Duo surveyed the man beneath Dorothy. "Is he alive?"
"I suppose so, but after what he tried to do to me, he should count himself fortunate I know how to pull my punches."
Duo looked at her again, stunned by her statement.
By now two of the officers had climbed the ladder and stood behind him. "You did this?" the English speaking officer asked, his eyes wide in disbelief as he took in the scene.
She rolled her eyes and snidely replied, "No, it was the little mouse in the corner. Of course it was me, you id..."
"Dorothy!" Duo abruptly interrupted before she could finish. It was clear she in a foul mood, and who could blame her after having been robbed and kidnaped? Even so, it wouldn't help either of them if she insulted the local constables.
"Here, take this." She held out the cigar to the closest officer, then obviously changed her mind when she put it back in her mouth, took a deep and slow draw then released the smoke slowly out one side of her mouth. Then she relinquished the cigar to the man.
"Didn't know you smoked," Duo commented as he watched her hand off the cigar.
"My cousin Treize taught me. I don't really care for cigars, but this idiot had the cheroot hanging out of his mouth when I put my foot into his belly. It was either pick it up off the floor or let the house burn the house down. Not a great idea with me stuck up here with him."
Duo looked at her, surprised by these new admissions. "You brought him down with one kick?" he asked.
"A kick and bashing the chair over his head." she replied looking rather smug at her accomplishment. Then suddenly her satisfied grin slipped. "Broke three fingernails, though." She frowned sadly down at the jagged nails on her right hand.
He chuckled at that and joked, "A steep price to pay for taking down your kidnapper."
"Yes, I suppose broken nails seem insignificant in comparison to the prize," she sighed. She then looked up at him with a wobbly grin. Whether from humor or relief at the ordeal being over, the both of them began to chuckle, which turned into an all-out laugh. When they finally paused, there were wiping tears out of their eyes and both were slightly breathless.
"Oh my," Dorothy gasped. "I haven't laughed like that in... well ever," she admitted, still grinning and eyes glistening.
Duo nodded. "Yeah, feels good, doesn't it? We'll have to do that again sometime."
"Without the kidnaping, please," she added, and began chuckling again.
The Italian officers looked at the two with expressions of confusion and disapproval. Duo knew it was unprofessional to joke right after reaching a crime scene, but it had felt good. He felt such a relief at having found Dorothy safe after several hours of worrying about her well-being.
Kneeling down, he checked the pulse of the downed man by putting his fingers on his neck. The kidnapper was definitely alive, his pulse steady. He felt his skull and found a rather large lump in the right side.
"Better call for an ambulance," he called out over his shoulder. "This guy's probably got a concussion and will need medical help."
"Mind helping me up?" Dorothy asked, directing the request to Duo.
He stood and offered her his hands. She let the chair leg drop from her hand then set both of her hands in his. It was then that he felt her trembling. He gripped her hands firmly, offering her strength and security without saying a word.
Dorothy looked up into his face and their eyes locked for a moment. She returned his grip and allowed him to pull her up and off the body she'd been sitting on and into his embrace.
"I've got you now," he whispered as he held her close. "You did a hell of job, Dot, but you can relax and let me take it from here."
She leaned into his chest and tucked her head down to fit under his chin. "Thank you for finding me," she whispered in a shaky voice.
"What are friends for if not to watch your back?"
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the small emergency room, where both the perpetrator and victim were examined, though the doctor and nurse seemed thoroughly confused as to who exactly was the attacker and victim, seeing as Dorothy had no visible signs of abuse.
After being released from the hospital, the rest of the evening was spent at the police station, making statements and answering questions. Dorothy explained that after Duo had disappeared, chasing the purse thief, she had been approached by the well-dressed kidnaper, clothed in black dress pants and white-short-sleeved shirt and tie, who displayed sincere concern and sympathy over her plight. He offered to escort her to the police station, not far from where they stood. She had been hesitant to leave her location, certain her companion would be distressed not to find her on his return. Yet the man had offered to speak to the shopkeeper, telling him of the situation and her whereabout, and if her young man asked after her, he would be directed to the station. She reluctantly agreed, having been convinced of the man's sincerity when he entered the store she was standing in front of to speak to the proprietor. Moments later, she'd accepted his arm when offered to her, and allowed herself to be led away.
They strolled together for a short time, Mr. Armond, as he introduced himself, spoke of the weather and suggested places for she and her companion to eat while visiting Venice. He had even lit up a small cigar, after asking her permission. She was impressed by his good manners. It wasn't until they turned into the walled and gated garden that she paused and realized she had been mislead and more than foolish for having trusted this stranger, no matter how gentlemanly he had appeared to be.
Of course, she pulled away from him the moment she became suspicious that he hadn't been truthful about his intentions of helping her. He apparently had been prepared for the moment and grabbed her upper arm and jerked her roughly to his side. It was then she felt the business end of a gun poking painfully into her ribs as he calmly told her she could either go with him quietly or with a bullet in her belly. She had no room to move and, at the angle he presented, she was unable to strike out at him defensively without the gun going off. Hoping to improve her position, she let him pull her into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom closet. He'd pulled down a ladder and ordered her to climb into the attic above. She recognized the moment as her chance. It was at the top of the ladder that she first struck out, a move he apparently had also anticipated. He had been ready for her attempted kick and was quick to grab the ankle of the foot that had tried to knock him down the ladder.
He pointed the gun at her head in warning as he climbed into the loft. As a precaution, he reached down and pulled up on a rope, hauling the drop-down ladder back 0up, the door closing with a sharp metallic click. Then with a smug grin, the ridiculous cigar hanging out of the side of his mouth, the man had motioned with the gun for her to move to the chair situated in the middle of the room. She complied slowly, hoping to stall for time to think of a way out of the situation.
It was then she noticed objects that would prevent her from making an escape. On the chair lay a pair of metal handcuffs, and rope neatly coiled on the floor. With a sinking feeling in her belly she knew if she didn't make a move now to strike the man down, it would be next to impossible to escape once she was tied down.
She waited until the last moment, when the overconfident man reached for the handcuffs, that she kicked out once again, her two inch heel hitting her kidnapper under the ribs, deflating a lung. Then gun in his hand went flying across the room. While he gasped for air, she swiftly bent, grabbed the chair, the nearest and only large object within reach, and spun it around until it impacted with her assailant's bent shoulders and head. The chair broke into pieces, leaving only the leg in her possession.
The man fell to his knees in what seemed slow motion to her, and wavered a moment, which just wasn't good enough. She figured he had to be completely incapacitated before she would consider herself safe.
She looked at the piece of wood in her hand and without another thought wacked the man for good measure on the head. Not too hard, mind you, but just enough to face plant him on the floor.
She grabbed up the slowly burning cigar and not finding a proper receptacle, placed in between her lips. Then running to the door, she pushed and pulled at the ladder, but couldn't seem to get the darn thing to open. It was no wonder with her hands trembling almost uncontrollably.
A moan came from the kidnapper. Torn before keeping the man down and trying to figure out the mechanism for the drop-down door, she finally made a decision by returning to the semi-unconscious man and sitting on top of him.
As time slowly moved on, the man beneath her had stirred close to consciousness twice. She'd made certain that when the villain finally woke, it would be to the worst headache imaginable and he would forever rue the day he had thought to make her his next victim.
It was about that time when the stubborn door opened and Duo's head popped up, much to her delight.
Though the investigation was in it's infancy, the injured kidnapper yet to be questioned, the Questore felt there had to be more than one adult directing the thefts and kidnaping. He promised to keep both visitor apprised of the situation and, of course, give alert them to when their testimonies would be needed in court.
They returned to the boat that night, close to midnight and to the surprise of the crew who had been apprized of the situation once they had reached the hospital. After the day they'd had, the idea of staying in a hotel was less appealing than spending the night in their now familiar beds on board the Isabella.
"Are you going to be alright?" Duo asked her after a wide yawn. He had walked with her to her cabin and they now stood in the doorway. She reached inside and turned on the light and found comfort in its glow.
Touched by his concern, she nodded. "I think I will be, even if I'm plagued by dreams of today's events. They will pass with time, I'm sure. Every terrible thing that has happened in my life has eventually faded to a bad memory."
Duo reached back to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, but some things never fade from memory, no matter how much we try to dismiss them."
"Will you tell me what keeps you up at night?" she asked, wondering if it was the war or his years growing up on the notorious L2 colony.
"Maybe, but not tonight. If you can't sleep, knock on my door. I've a prescription for sleep medication."
"A prescription? Have you always had problems sleeping?" The last half of the question was said though a yawn of her own. "Pardon me," she said softly. "That was rude of me to ask."
Duo simply smiled at her. "Go to bed, Dottie. Tomorrow and all its possibilities and potential pitfalls will be here all too soon."
She nodded and was about to obey when she suddenly stopped and turned back to say, "Thank you again, Duo, for finding me today. You can't imagine how glad I was to hear you calling for me, or to see your face
pop up from the opening."
He nodded. "That's exactly how I felt when I found you."
Then, as if to erase the memory of the unfortunate day, he leaned over and quickly kissed her forehead, in a most brotherly manner. That tender expression of comfort, so simple yet so needed, meant the world to her in that moment.
Without further word, they parted for the night. And with the memory of Duo's comfort after the long and troubling day, Dorothy was surprised that she slept deeply and well that night, dream free, as far as she could recollect. She woke the next morning refreshed and renewed and thinking that wonders never do cease to happen.
A knock sounded on her door as she headed towards the shower. She tightened the knot on her robe and opened the door to reveal Anders.
"A phone call, Miss Dorothy. It's Mr. Winner and he says it's quite urgent that he speaks with Mr. Duo."
"Then by all means, let's inform him."
Anders followed her to Duo's stateroom. She knocked, heard a muffled response, then a moment later the door opened to reveal a very sleep-mussed young man wearing only sleep shorts.
"Wuz up?" he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Quatre Winner is on the line, requesting to speak to you," she announced. "He told Anders it's urgent."
Instantly, the sleepiness disappeared. Clearly alert now, Duo followed Ander to the helm, where the ship to shore phone was located. Dorothy followed him, but kept herself at a distance to give him some privacy, if he needed it.
After several moments of speaking quietly to Mr. Winner, Duo handed the phone back to Anders, then turned to her, his expression grave. "Trowa's gone missing while visiting the circus in Rome. Quat wants me to see if I can locate him."
Dorothy acknowledged the information with a nod, then asked, "Are we going by train, plane or ship?"
Silence passed between them as the braided man considered what she was asking. After taking a deep breath he answered. "Whichever is quickest. Quat has a bad feeling something has happened to him."
Dorothy released the breath she'd been holding, relieved they weren't going to argue about her going with him to Rome. Having Duo Maxwell around certainly had its benefits as there was rarely a dull moment. Even though Duo was clearly worried about his friend, she couldn't help the ripple of excitement at the prospect of solving the puzzle around Mr. Barton's disappearance. And they would find him, she knew, and in doing so she would prove to Duo what an asset she was to such an investigation. And when he acknowledged that fact, she would tell him her idea regarding both of their futures. But first they had to find the missing former Gundam pilot.
"Trust me, Duo. I'm on it," she assured him. "I'll have us both booked on a flight to Rome as soon as possible. Pack your bags and be ready to go." As she turned to confer with Anders to enlist his assistance, she smiled to herself. This vacation was turning out better than she'd imagined. Well, minus the part where Duo was pushed down some stairs and that she had been kidnaped. Even so, luck seemed to be on their side, and with that luck, they would find out together just what happened to Mr. Trowa Barton.
TBC, hopefully...