Prologue | An Unexpected Meeting

—|1|2|—

Alessio Gaspari truly detested Rome.

As usual, stone walls seemed to tower over him, surround him, and swallow him whole as he walked along the narrow passageway. However, even as those very walls amplified the sputtering exhausts and dull collisions of rubber against cobblestone, he came to realize his surroundings could have been far, far worse. An abundance of colors—canary yellow next to pink, beige and coral ahead of him—saved his eyes from what otherwise might have been a dreary gray and brown morass as in other parts of the city. Nature provided its own contribution in the form of brilliant green, both in the smattering of London plane trees that lined the streets further ahead and in the denser collection of those and other foliage within the park behind him.

It was a damned shame that this ostensible oasis was stuck within the veritable hell of Rome.

He trudged onward, steadfast in his determination despite the weight tugging at and digging into his right shoulder. A sharp yank of the thick canvas strap brought him a brief respite. Not that he had to worry about his discomfort for much longer, for he was barely minutes away from his destination. The wide swath of branches and overhanging leaves growing ever larger in his vision would protect him from the beating he endured from the late morning sun.

Then again, so would not being outside in the first place.

The intersection of the cobble road and tree-lined boulevard held many shops and points of interest to locals and tourists alike. Of particular interest to him was a pizzeria to his right, tucked into the corner of an apartment building. Its white stone exterior buttressed the weathered red brick façade of the upper stories. A row of tables, a few empty but most occupied by blithely unaware locals, squeezed an already narrow walkway even tighter. He shuffled to his left to avoid hitting a patron with his bag, only to nearly shove another pedestrian into the row of motorbikes parked in front of the restaurant.

"Dammit," he thought, letting his shoulder bag fall into his right hand so he could massage the sore muscle with his left. "What the hell was I thinking in waiting so long to get some lunch? Could've gone earlier and beat this mad rush—or somewhere else for that matter."

It was a moot point now. As he breached the threshold he was greeted with the raucous din of a nearly packed establishment. He momentarily considered turning around and retracing his steps to a pizzeria two blocks away. However, the sweet aroma wafting throughout the building pulled him back in.

"Might as well wait here. It's not like the other place is any less packed."

Nevertheless, seating was remarkably quick. Luck placed him inside, well away from the overbearing sunlight from which the awning provided little protection. The cost of that good fortune was that he was likely going to wait several minutes before his order arrived. He reached down into the brown shoulder bag that occupied the adjacent chair and pulled out a laptop computer.

"Well, I guess I could get a little bit of work done, if only to pass the time."

His annoyed huff as he slouched into the cushion easily overpowered the laptop fan's mechanical whirring. A few seconds later the whirring subsided and the screen flashed to display a pale blue background. On it, a white text box beckoned him to supply a user name and password.

"Thank goodness for SSDs, else the pizza'd get here before this goddamned thing's done booting. Heh. Anyway, I'd better take a quick peek around this place for any threats before getting to work here."

A healthy dose of paranoia was necessary given Alessio's prior career choices—doubly the case for his present course. The data his laptop carried merely added to his concern. He was not silly enough to actually store working documents directly on the machine, but that was irrelevant. It provided a conduit to the data, and if the machine fell into the wrong hands then he risked far more than a dismissal from his employers. A serious enough mistake meant all his technical precautions could be damned. No amount of encryption could save him then.

"Hmm… there's a brunette in the corner. Eh, can't rule her out completely, but she's probably okay. Doesn't really fit the pattern." He slid his gaze rightward, exhaling a worried sigh as he soon found another source of worry. "No… no… not quite… Oh, that blonde, though. She fits the profile alright. Not perfectly, but close enough for trouble. I'll definitely want to keep an eye on her."

He returned at least a part of his attention to the laptop, his fingers flying across the keys with practiced precision. A darker gray background greeted him barely a second after he finished. Unlike the typical computer user whose desktop was littered with icons for various files, folders, and programs, his was rather sparse. Among those few was a program that enabled a secure connection from his laptop to another computer containing all the files he needed. Such technology made irrelevant any need to know the true location of the other machine. The program prompted him to type in yet another password. It wasn't strictly necessary for setting up the encrypted connection, but a person in his shoes could never be too careful. He repositioned his hands upon the keyboard.

At that moment he encountered a major problem.

It was a problem that peered at him with inquisitive pale blue eyes. He found a certain coldness in that stare, and it caused him to flinch. That, or the fact she had seemingly come from nowhere. Despite her long blond hair, she certainly wasn't the blonde he had spotted earlier. That girl remained seated three tables ahead, wrangling some rogue cheese dangling from her slice of sausage pizza. He didn't quite fully know which it was that had set him off. As he swiveled in his seat to face this potential threat, he really didn't care too much about finding out.

"W-What do you want?" His eyes narrowed as irritation swept away the initial shock. An open hand slapped the table as his other grabbed the back of his bench seat to steady his twisted frame. "Don't you know it's rude to just stare at people like that?"

"I, um…"

In that instant, as he saw the girl lower her gaze and unsteadily loop her finger through a few strands of hair, he almost regretted his angry outburst. That feeling subsided when he heard a steadier voice from the girl once she found the determination to speak.

"I was just interested, that's all. I-In your computer, that is."

"Interested, huh? I sure as hell see nothing special about it, unless you're looking to steal it or something like that."

"No, I—"

She stopped talking the instant a pair of hands fell upon her shoulders, and when Alessio looked up at the man connected to those hands he could see why. He recoiled from the pair with a grimace twisting his face, despite being met in turn by such a nervous, if otherwise genial, smile.

"I'm sorry. You'll have to excuse my daughter here. It seems she takes after me in being quite the computer geek."

If Alessio heard the man's explanation or his self-deprecating chuckle that ensued, he didn't make it known. Instead, a certain thought occupied his mind. "Where the hell did… oh, I see now. He was sitting right behind me. But I damned sure didn't see that girl with him before."

The other man continued, apparently undaunted by the momentary silence. "You see, she gets a bit overly excited sometimes at seeing brand new, shiny toys like your laptop. I can't really say that I blame her."

"Well, my laptop isn't a toy for her to play with." He huffed, and turned to the man a rather annoyed look. "I'm trying to get at least a small amount of work done here before my food arrives, and this girl of yours is getting in my way."

"Understood." He punctuated the words with a nod. "I'll make sure she stays out of your way from now on."

Before the man could usher his daughter away from the table of an agitated Alessio, the trio was joined by a fourth. He was the waiter, and he carried a glass of water destined for that table, along with assorted drinks for other patrons. That man approached the father and daughter pair from behind, which would have been absolutely no problem, had the girl paid any attention to her surroundings. With her gaze directed steadfastly at the ground, probably due to her mixed feelings of disappointment and embarrassment, she slammed right into the man. The glass of water swerved and teetered on the edge of imbalance for a disturbingly long second before finally succumbing to gravity. Alessio felt his heart stop as he tracked the trail of liquid fall from the tray and slam into the table's polished wooden surface. His eyes then followed the water as it flowed over the edge.

"Oh shit!"

Whether that sentiment stayed within his thoughts or fled into reality did not matter to him as he felt more cold liquid against his skin. It felt really sticky and very much unlike water. He was split between investigating this new problem and containing the existing one. It caused him to freeze in place momentarily, until he remembered that his bag sitting alongside him was getting wet. Not that it was a huge problem in its own right, until he realized there was something even more valuable than that laptop sitting right there in that bag, and that he had left the bag wide open.

"Ah! My apologies, sir!" The waiter, with great haste, set the tray down on a nearby table before any more of the spilled drinks overflowed its raised edges. "Oh, let me grab some towels for you really quickly." Then he noticed the water path migrating toward the laptop computer. "Oh, your laptop!"

"Don't worry, I got it."

Alessio heard the man say those words, but he didn't pay any real attention to what he perceived as a blob stalking the edge of his peripheral vision. After all, he had greater concerns than that machine. It wasn't as if they could get away with stealing it. He was right there, after all. Even if they did, it would've been rather useless without the item he was rushing to save.

That item was his cell phone.

Normally, he wouldn't care. Most people wouldn't. However, that phone was more than a mere mode of communication. For one, it was specially modified. For two, it provided the second factor of authentication for him to actually log into the remote server and access the files he needed. Without his phone, he might as well just return to his office. That alone was no major problem, except for the small fact that his office was a few hundred kilometers away. His early return would not have pleased his bosses in the slightest. He felt his fingers grasp the phone's damp aluminum exterior for an instant before the device slipped from his hand and back into the pool of water at the bottom of the bag.

"Argh!"

One more attempt was all he needed to finally extract the phone from his bag. A quick press of the power button would tell him whether his trip to Rome was all for naught. Naturally, his first priority was to make sure it was dry beforehand, lest he accidentally consign the phone to such an inevitable demise. He looked up just in time to see the waiter return to the table with a handful of towels. The fact that the man and that blonde were still hovering around concerned him slightly, but not nearly as much as the potential loss of his phone.

"Here you go, sir."

He swiped one of the thick cotton towels from the waiter's outstretched hand and, with great haste, set about dabbing at the phone. When he was certain it was dry enough he pressed the power button and stared, waiting—nay, praying—for the screen to illuminate.

Let there be light.

Pent-up stress and frustration fled from him in the loud sigh he exhaled, placing the phone in right pocket of his trousers. It felt awkward since his other phone, the one he used for more mundane purposes, occupied his left pocket. Either way, it was safer that way, at least until he could remove the remaining water from the bag. But that would have to wait for after lunch.

"Excuse me, sir."

Alessio looked up to see that man yet again. The source of his current troubles, though his time he saw from the man's face a more repentant expression. Now that the crisis had been settled, he could actually examine the man more thoroughly. First off, Alessio noticed that he and the man standing at the end of the table shared the same average build. He couldn't quite explain why, but that fact alone calmed him. Maybe it was that he expected his enemies to be stockier, more muscular. Ex-military or police types. They generally were, as recent bitter experience had so plainly demonstrated to him. This man, however, clearly lacked that same physical presence. So did he, by that same logic, but he ignored that point. Looking upward, Alessio found that they shared the same brown colored hair, though his was a few shades darker and several centimeters longer than the close trimmed look opposite him. It reminded him, vaguely, that a well-needed haircut loomed in his future, should he ever gain the motivation to find a barber. That was for later, however. The present moment demanded that he figure out what that unknown man had to say.

"What?" Paying attention didn't mean he had to be particularly nice about it.

"My daughter here has something she wants to say to you." Alessio saw the man give the girl standing before him a gentle nudge in the back. "Isn't that right, Gabriella?"

The girl lowered her head, apparently in shame, before speaking in a solemn whisper. "I'm sorry for nearly breaking your computer."

"And?"

"And I'm also sorry for ruining your shirt as well." The suddenness as she snapped a wide-eyed gaze upward to meet her father's jostled several long strands of hair, causing some to fall haphazardly across her face. "But, how was I supposed—"

"That's enough."

So that explained the continued feeling of dampness on his arm. A very alarmed Alessio had grabbed one of the towels the waiter had left him upon hearing the girl's second apology. However, the stern voice that followed from her father made even him stop in his tracks. His recognizing the futility of his intended effort at that point, when his pale blue dress shirt had long since been marred by several red splotches, likely contributed as well. Either way, he let the towel fall back onto the table as he returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Anyway, I have to apologize to you as well. This should be enough to pay for its replacement. At least, I certainly hope so."

Alessio heard the man's nervous chuckle, but soon understood why upon seeing the pair of bills extended toward him. The bright green was very hard to miss. A tiny grin tugged at his lips as, with little hesitation, he grasped the bills to accept them as his own. After all, who but a fool would refuse a free two hundred euro—especially when his shirt only cost him thirty?

"Uh… yeah, I'd say so. Thanks."

Transaction completed, Alessio saw a nod and a grin—though maybe, he thought, it was more of a grimace—from the man before he turned and guided the girl to the pizzeria's front door. He shook his head as he watched the pair depart. A near disaster occurred because of them, yet at the same time he received a tidy little profit from the ordeal. He glanced at his watch. The numbers it told him caused him to sigh.

"I'd say about five more minutes before they're done. Damn, that wasted a lot of time though. Might as well make good use of what little I have. Hopefully I don't run into any other stupid problems."

Why not? The table was dry, thanks to the pile of wet towels that were shoved to one corner. His laptop and his phone both were equally dry and, more importantly, still functional. With that mindset he returned to the computer. Not surprisingly, that program continued to run, displaying simple black box and a blinking cursor next to the phrase Enter Password. Uttering little more than a harrumph, he placed his hands upon the keyboard and typed the very information it desired.

—|1|2|—

She said nothing as she followed the man outside, instead silently welcoming the warmth provided by the midday sun. He didn't say anything either. It made perfect sense. Why would he after she put him through such an embarrassing, let alone expensive, incident? Her eyes found in the cobblestone walkway a more interesting view than the path ahead.

Fifty meters.

Though, maybe it was better that he kept his peace. The last thing she wanted was a public scolding, and a loud one at that. It would have been the most horrible thing ever. Well, maybe second most horrible to be honest. Or it could have been third, come to think of it. Regardless, she hated when he was angry at her. It made her feel absolutely terrible when she behaved in ways that made him angry at her.

One hundred meters.

And he certainly had to be angry at her. She had screwed up majorly. In one instant she ruined some poor stranger's clothes and made herself and her father look like complete idiots in front of everyone. Because of that, she likely ruined their entire outing, and it wasn't yet noon. Now he turned to her, ready to speak. She could only imagine what terrible thing he was going to say, now that they were far enough away from the pizzeria. Far enough away from the innocent gentleman whose day she singlehandedly wrecked.

One hundred fifty meters. Mark.

"Hey, baby girl." With a widening smile brightening his face, he placed his left arm around the girl's shoulders while gesturing backward toward the pizzeria with his right hand. "What did you think of that little stunt we pulled back there, huh?"

Well… it was exactly what she expected him to say. After all, they had managed to put enough distance between them and the scene. She could finally drop the charade and return to behaving normally. He clearly was not angry at her. He had zero reason to be angry at her.

Not to say it made her feel too much better, though. Her whisper carried more than a hint of disappointment.

"I wish I had enough time to deliver a more useful payload." Her shoulders slumped despite the comfort of his touch. "All I can really do is gain a remote shell and perform key logging."

He failed to stifle the chuckles that filled the air around them. A sharp beep soon followed, one that emanated from the long row of cars that filled the street-side parking. Among the plethora of small three-door and five-door hatchbacks was a three-door Ford Fiesta, and it was this dark-blue car that was responsible for producing that noise. He opened the driver's side door and dropped inside, while the girl ambled around the front so she could pull the handle for the passenger door. With one hand she smoothed out her white skirt before taking a step down into her seat. He waited until she shut the door before he turned the key to bring the car's small four-cylinder engine to life with a rumble.

"Cheer up, Valentina. You've accomplished far more than what I expected from you for today." His exhortation didn't quite create the desired result, so he made sure she understood what he was saying. "You did very well today. You do know that, right?"

The question was met with a guarded shrug, and nothing more.

Seeing a break in the traffic he carefully reversed the car into the street. Although it probably was quite illegal, he backed further into the intersection so that he could subsequently drive eastward along the narrow one-lane street. While it was longer, he preferred that route since it took the pair further away from the pizzeria and any suspicious eyes. Once he turned the car south onto a larger boulevard, he snuck a peek at the slouching blonde.

"Okay… I'm going to assume you know the password to that VPN client he was using."

She nodded. "That and almost every keystroke he's made within the last few minutes."

It was an assertion most regular people would've found ludicrous, especially when the girl appeared to merely stare in space with none of the equipment typically used by others to answer such a question at hand. But not him, for he knew Valentina was a very special child.

"See, I told you."

"But, Papa…" She spoke with a high-pitched whine befitting a frustrated ten-year-old girl. "None of it makes much sense without any context. I don't know whether he's typing something new or making corrections to an existing document. I can tell you a bunch of monetary figures he typed, but I can't tell you what they were for."

In turn, his voice was calmer and more reassuring. "Baby steps, Valentina. Baby steps. You know that. Anyway, tell Priscilla what we know."

"Okay, papa." After a few seconds she turned to him a very curious gaze. "Do you think she wants a summary or a real-time feed?"

"Just a data dump and a brief summary should be fine." Despite driving among the notorious Roman traffic, he spared her a brief moment to meet her stare with an amused expression. "Oh, and don't forget to tell her about our little encounter with signore Alessio Gaspari. I'm sure she'll find that quite the hilarious escapade."

"But that was your idea, I think. I didn't even know the waiter was there."

"Sure, but you recognized Gaspari. I never saw him nor would I have even known a Padanian operative was nearby if I didn't have you with me. Give yourself a little credit every now and again, baby girl."

Looking over at his charge was far too dangerous given the dense traffic he encountered, but at the edge of his vision he could sense the tiniest smile on the girl's lips. Slowly but surely, his hard work was paying off.

Then again, the old adage of two steps forward, one step back always seemed to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune times.

"So, as I remember from a few days ago, you were telling me about this neat little rootkit you were working on. I wonder, how far along are you on it?"

Valentina turned very pale and began to shiver almost the instant she comprehended his question. "I… I t-thought that y-you… that I had…"

"Huh?" He needed almost no time at all to recognize the impending calamity. He only wished for a place to safely pull over and stop, knowing none existed. "Oh God, don't…"

Her shaking became more violent, further muddling her speech. "I… I-I'll f-finish… right… I p-prom—"

Fortunately, it was not the first time he had experienced such an episode with Valentina. From that moment he knew she would remain unconscious for the entire thirty-minute duration of their trip. Worse was the mess he would have to clean. He rather liked the white skirt that Priscilla had purchased for her, especially appreciating the patterns formed by the outer layer of lace. The odds of her wearing that particular article of clothing again, or the white T-shirt she wore for that matter, were extremely slim. The garbage bin was their most likely resting spot. Her shoes were spared. So was her denim jacket, but only because she had taken it off before going into the pizzeria, to her chagrin at the time. As for the car, he once again thanked providence for giving him enough foresight to order one with leather upholstery.

"Might as well find somewhere out of the way to start cleaning up this mess before I get too far along," he thought, lowering the windows with the hope of obtaining some fresh air. After a few more seconds of contemplation he peered over at Valentina's slumped, unmoving figure and sighed.

Life never seemed to grant Giancarlo Rossi a dull moment ever since he decided to join the Social Welfare Agency.