"Angelica," Marco said, "do you have to go to the bathroom?"

"I'm sorry." The little cyborg squirmed in her car seat. "I know we're in a hurry."

He swallowed his impatience. "Not really. We're ahead of schedule. I just don't want to be the last one to arrive." Public Safety had uncovered a rather ambitious bomb plot by the FRF: a group of Northern malcontents in Milan had contracted with the infamous bombmaking team of 'Franco and Franca' to produce one or more of their tamper-proof devices, to be placed in some public area in Rome where they would provide serious disruption to traffic and commerce even if the Carabinieri managed to disable or detonate them without loss of life. The government ant-terror organization had learned that the purchase and exchange was to be conducted at a set time in a Padan safehouse in the Dolomites, just a few kilometers south of the Austrian border. Section Two was sending a fratello army to surround and apprehend the Padania bigwigs expected to attend, as well as the bombmakers.

He drove for a few minutes more down the old two-lane highway, little-used since the construction of the express road just to the east. It was all hill country and farmland, without a business or other public accommodation in sight. He'd almost given up on finding a place this side of Verona when a small roadside park appeared, just a hectare of grass and trees with a few tables and a swingset - and a restroom. The only other car in the six-place lot was a blue Renault sedan, unoccupied. He swung over and pulled in.

While Angie fussed with her seatbelt and her bag, he decided to get out and stretch his legs. The car door thunked shut just as the door to the restroom opened and a woman stepped out: a slender blonde dressed in boots, jeans, and a collared shirt under a denim jacket. Her eyes were invisible behind tinted glasses. She paused, studying the car and its driver. A woman alone on an empty road, Marco thought. Comes out to find a strange man standing a few steps from her car. No wonder she seems wary.

Then Angelica finally got out. "I'll be right back," she said, and hurried down the short path; the woman visibly relaxed upon seeing a child with the stranger.

"Take your time," he called. "And take your meds. You're about due."

"Okay." On her way into the bathroom, Angie brushed past the woman, who smiled at her in passing and shifted that smile to him. He returned it with a nod of understanding.

Then her regard sharpened. "…Marco? Marco Toni?" She tipped down her shades. Familiar blue eyes gazed at him over the rims.

"Caterina? My God."A rush of pleasant memories warmed him. He closed the distance between, and reached for her hands as she raised them.

"Your voice was familiar," she said, "but I didn't recognize you until you smiled."

"The glasses," he said. "And I've gained a few kilos. I don't start my day with a five-klick run anymore."

"What happened?"

"Accidental weapon discharge. Cost me about a third of my sight in my right eye - and my career with the State Police."

"How are you doing now?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm a social worker, can you believe it?" He glanced toward the restroom. "Taking care of kids, no less."

"Well, I'm sure Patricia's glad of that. Not that she'd ever see you hurt to make it happen, but she..." When his smile faltered, she said, "You're not together anymore?"

"No." He gave her hands a final squeeze and let go of them. "You haven't seen her lately, then."

"I haven't kept in touch with the old crowd at all, I'm afraid. I spend most of my time at the estate. I don't really oversee the vineyards - the workers know their jobs better than I do - but they're happier when the owner's in residence."

"What are you doing so far from Frascati, then?"

"Oh, just a little customer service. You?"

"A conference. Angie doesn't get out of the girls' dorm much, so I asked my supervisor to let me take her along."

She smiled. "That's sweet. I would never have figured you for a man who likes kids."

The cell phone at Caterina's hip burred. Without removing it, she turned its face up to read the display.

He said, "Aren't you going to answer that?"

"I'm sure they'll call back." She turned off the phone. "So. Social work. A non-profit, or are you still working for the government?"

From inside the restroom, Angelica peered through the barely-open door at Marco and the stranger. They acted like old friends, and Marco was smiling at the woman in a way that he never did at her. That bothered her in one way and comforted her in another. She knew that Marco had had a girlfriend before he'd become her handler, and that they'd drifted apart. The grownup lady with Marco was very pretty, but Angie didn't think this woman was her. Another old girlfriend? Or maybe he knew her from work, from his old job or maybe even from elsewhere within the Agency. She nodded to herself. That would explain his ease with her, as well as the pistol tucked into the small of the woman's back under her denim jacket, visible only to eyes closer to the ground than a grownup's. Angie decided to ask him about this 'Caterina' as soon as they were alone again. She let the door shut and withdrew to use the toilet and down her meds.

But when she opened the door again and looked out, her breath caught, and she wished she'd brought her gun case into the restroom with her. Marco and the lady didn't seem so friendly anymore. Marco's face was closed, and the woman's voice rose as she spoke.

"Why should we look kindly on a government that wants the successful to pay for the failures. To support this redistribution of wealth - a fancy name for stealing."

"Caterina, the North is wealthy because it's been getting government subsidies and tax breaks since the time of the Empire. It's always been the domain of the privileged class. People think it's time the haves pulled their share, is all."

Angelica moved quickly toward the pair, eye on the woman's concealed weapon. If she made a move toward it…

"Privileged class. Is that how you always thought of me? A spoiled child demanding her own way about everything? You never talked like this when you were in uniform, Marco. What kind of-" She stopped. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. Here we are, meeting for the first time in years, and we're shouting at each other over politics."

Ange moved up behind the woman, ready to grab her wrist with her right hand – judging by the way the pistol was inserted into the waistband, Caterina was right-handed – and ram four stiff fingers through her spine with the left. "Marco? Is everything all right?"

The two grownups turned to her. Marco looked embarrassed. "We're fine, Angelica. People just get worked up when they talk about certain things, that's all. Go play on the swing or something."

She watched them for a moment more, then said, "Okay."

Caterina watched the child go. "Is she all right?"

Marco drew a breath and paused. "She was run over by a car, nearly killed. It's been a long recovery. She's had some setbacks."

"She seems very attached to you."

He tightened up a little more. "I'm her case worker. We spend a lot of time together."

"Where are her parents?"

"In jail. They're the ones who ran her over. There was an insurance policy."

She shook her head. "Incredible. The poor thing."

He decided to change the subject. He nodded toward the Renault, a nondescript vehicle that seemed very unlike her. "You still have your Alfas?"

She smiled again. "Of course I do, this is just a rental."

"I was sure you would have flipped one of them over by now."

"Never. Driving on two wheels is easy, once you learn. Unless your passengers are throwing themselves all over the car making chimpanzee noises."

"That wasn't me. I'm quite sure I never even breathed until all four tires were on the road again." He remembered too well the time she'd done it. The four of them had been in her father's GTV, him in the back seat with Patricia, Caterina driving, and some hopeful wolf from school who'd managed to latch onto her for the weekend filling the shotgun seat. They'd been negotiating a twisting downhill road; the guy had made an offer to take the wheel, coupled with a patronizing remark about women drivers. Caterina had swerved to the shoulder, and her companion's voice had switched off as the right-hand tires crunched in the gravel. Marco had felt the car wobble strangely as she'd twisted the wheel, and suddenly the horizon had tilted as the left wheels lifted off the ground. They'd gone serenely down the road like that for fifty meters while Caterina's date had pissed himself. Marco didn't recall ever seeing him in the feisty blonde's company again. "Who taught you to do that?"

"I taught myself. The first time was an accident - a drunk drifting left of center, all the way into my lane. I was just trying to avoid him. I nearly did flip the car that time. But I didn't, and after I was safe, it had seemed kind of fun. So I tried it again, and again, and got pretty good at it." She glanced toward the swings. "Marco."

He turned. Angelica was in the swing, but she wasn't moving, just sitting with her hands gripping the chains, watching them. Caterina moved toward the swings, and he stepped forward quickly to get there just ahead of her, not sure what might happen. The young heiress crouched in the dusty rut in front of Angie's swing. "Sweetie, is something wrong?"

Angelica said, "I don't know what to do." She looked up at him, apprehensive. "Did I ever play on a swing before?"

Caterina gave him a brief look filled with pity, but when she turned to the girl, she wore a smile on her face and her voice was light. "Would you like me to show you? It'll be fun, I promise."

A minute later, Angie was grinning from ear to ear as she rocketed towards the top of the swing's arc. "Higher!"

Caterina was standing behind the swing, pushing. "I don't think so," she laughed. "You're higher than the bar already. I thought you didn't know how."

"I remember!"

Caterina smiled wide at him. "At least you're feeding her properly. Maybe I'm just stiff from the drive, but it feels like I'm pushing someone twice her size."

He smiled and nodded while alarm bells rang in his head, and not just from Caterina's innocent remark about his cyborg's weight. Returning memories were a sign of conditioning failure. If Angie went on the blink in the middle of the coming op… He looked pointedly at his watch. "I wish we could stay, but we're on our way to an appointment. Angelica, it's time to go."

Caterina slowed the girl to a stop, and she slid off the seat. "Thank you, Caterina."

The tall blonde took her hand. "You're welcome. It was very nice meeting you, Angelica. Maybe we'll see each other again." She turned to him and offered a hand. "Which way are you going?"

He took it and held on. "North. You?"

"South." She nodded. "It was good seeing you again, Marco. You should stop by sometime."

He nodded as well. "I will." He let go of her hand.

On the road again, he reflected on the influence blind chance sometimes played in people's lives. What were the odds that two people with nothing in common but a brief acquaintance years before should meet on a deserted road kilometers from their usual travels? He noted that neither of them had made any real promises for the future, nor had they exchanged numbers. He was sure they'd never meet again.

Beside him, Angie stirred in her seat. He asked, "Something wrong? You didn't forget your bag at the park, did you?"

"No." She frowned. "There was something I wanted to ask you, but I don't remember what it was now."

He turned his attention back to the road. "Well, if it's important, it'll come back to you sooner or later."

Caterina headed south, but her destination was not her vineyard southeast of Rome. Soon, she would turn west, toward Milan and the auto repair shop that was her present base of operations. She remembered her phone, and turned it back on. Immediately, it began to ring. She connected and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Franca." Franco's voice. "Where are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Paulina called to warn me about the raid on the safehouse before I got there. I turned around and got clear just before they cordoned off the area." She glanced at the two steel suitcases in the seat beside her, each packed with electronics and fifteen kilos of Semtex. "But I'll still be taking back roads all the way home, I think."

"Too close. I warned you about those people and their cruddy security, didn't I? Our people say Public Safety is sending in their black-ops division to take down the holdouts - the assassin teams we've been hearing rumors about."

"Well, if all I wanted was a safe life, I'd still be in school. I'll be home in a few hours." She disconnected.