CHAPTER TWO
With a splitting headache and a dry mouth, Nicco woke up to realize he was in a hospital. As the room came into focus he recognized Jean Croce standing at his bed-side, with a scowl on his face. The grim Field Commander did not ask if he felt alright. "Mr. Corelli," he growled "the cyborgs have physical abilities far beyond our own. If they were to use a normal football they would need a field 2 kilometers long. Therefore, they play with a 5 kilogram medicine ball. Do you now understand why Priscilla warned you to be careful?"
"Ugh...yes...yes I do" muttered Nicco, realizing he was wearing a collar around his neck. Standing next to Jean was the same short-haired girl who had chipped the 5kg football toward him, wearing a crimson face and a broad frown.
Croce shoved her forward and said in the same low growl "Rico has something to tell you."
"I'm sorry for breaking your neck Mr. Corelli" she whimpered.
"No...no it was my fault" replied Nicco, struggling to sit up in the bed.
The girl looked confused and answered "But Jean told me it was my fault for not being careful."
"It was an accident" Nicco tried to console the girl, "it was my fault for not listening to Priscilla."
She looked at him with bewilderment and argued "Jean said it was my fault and if Jean said it, it must be true!"
Croce pulled her back by the collar and ordered, "Rico, you can go now." She smiled again, and left the room.
"Oh god I have a lot to learn about cyborgs..." groaned Nicco.
Jean nodded. "It appears you do. We have been discussing your case while you were...incapacitated...and we feel you are a bigger danger to yourself than the murderer is."
Jeeze, this guy doesn't mince words, thought Corelli. "You're probably right. Is my neck really broken?"
"No...just a concussion. The collar is only a precaution." Croce handed Corelli his own chart and said "The doctor will be in to release you in a few minutes, and then we will return to Chief Lorenzo's office."
Having dispensed with the neck support collar, Nicco was discharged. Once again he was shuttled around the compound in a Kawasaki utility vehicle, this time driven by Jean, who said nothing for the entire drive. Nicco did not feel like talking anyway; after the medicine ball incident he seriously wondered if he was in over his head. This morning I went to work as a simple data analyst, miserable at my job, but relatively safe nonetheless. By 4 o'clock in the afternoon I was lying in a hospital bed as a result of a kids' football game, and now I'm supposed to join a task force charged with tracking down a murderer? A murderer who had already killed 4 trained agents...including one from Special Operations? "Mr. Croce...I don't think I'm...I mean, I think this could possibly be a mistake, placing me on your task force."
"Oh, I agree with you completely," muttered Jean, rolling up in front of the office building, "but it's out of our hands now. You are in no position to just walk away now. As the Section Chief said, the Assassino D'Essai is probably a member of the Italian intelligence community, and likely has access to your report, and your name. Do you actually want to go home and wait for him to find you?"
Nicco felt like an incredible coward, but he replied "I...I could go to my sister's house in Potenza...he wouldn't find me there."
"Brilliant move, idiot" snapped Croce, "then your sister, her husband Greggorio, and their 2 children Dominico & Silvia ages 7 & 5 can all be murdered too. How long do you think it took our intelligence analyst to get their names and address? She did it before she took you on the tour of the compound...yes, if that flake Priscilla can track down your loved ones in 5 minutes the murderer already knows where they are."
"My god..." muttered Corelli, feeling as if all the air had been knocked out of him.
Jean got out of his seat and added "Relax...we have Carabinieri watching her house, as well as that of your parents in Rome. Your relatives are as safe as we can make them & the best thing you can do...the only thing, is help us catch this bastardo as quickly as we can. You might want to avoid soccer games as well."
_Dario_
A few handlers sat around discussing the Nicolo Corelli situation with their Chief. "Well, he's certainly no agent, and it would take at least a year to make him into one" groaned Alessandro.
Michele Pagani shook his head "Kara told me what she heard from the other cyborgs: Did he really try to bounce a medicine ball off his head?"
"He thought it was an ordinary football" sighed Giuseppe, "dumb bastard."
The Section Chief got them back on track; "Gentlemen, he may be a fool by our set of standards, and a danger to himself by any measure, but Corelli is a member of our team now and we need to keep him safe. Since it's unrealistic to keep him locked up here on compound, I think the easiest thing to do is give him a bodyguard."
"You're talking about a cyborg, sir?" muttered Rissi, "Begging your pardon, but are we really going to make a €150 million investment in one murder case? This guy isn't going to stay with Section 2 after we catch the killer...is he?"
"Maybe...if he lives" sighed Lorenzo, "it's too early to decide. But getting back to the point, I'm not proposing giving him a new cyborg. We currently have 3 cyborgs that have lost their handlers."
Pagani's eyebrows rose. "Well, we can't give him Donatello, she's still a basket-case in the hospital. That leaves Dario & Claes." He secretly hoped it wouldn't be Claes...Michele liked taking her along to help out on jobs with Kara, and didn't want to lose his second cyborg.
"I don't like the idea of sending Claes out solo" agreed Giuseppe. "She's dangerously non-violent, and could freeze in a critical situation. Of course, that leaves another problem child."
"Dario has had long enough to grieve," said Lorenzo, "it was never our intention to let a cyborg idle around her room indefinitely. It's time she got back into action. Elio, I'd like you to assist Corelli on his first few outings with her. Give him the crash course in dealing with a difficult cyborg." The gray-bearded man nodded in assent.
With a knock Jean Croce announced himself, and led Nicco in. "Have a seat Nicolo" invited the Chief, "we've just now been discussing your case."
"Chief, sir...I have a lot of doubts...I am not a trained agent."
"That is obvious" growled Jean, but he was silenced by a sharp look from the other handlers.
Lorenzo leaned forward to explain his plan; "That is why we're going to assign a cyborg to you, as an assistant & bodyguard. These girls are imprinted when they leave the production wing, conditioned to obey and protect their agent...even to the death. Unfortunately, we have a small handful of cyborgs that have lost their partners for various reasons, and we're giving you one of them." He pressed an intercom button on his desk and called "Will you please send Triela in?" Turning back to the other men Lorenzo continued; "She won't be attached to you as strongly as she was to her original master, but she will be conditioned to protect & obey you. The extent to which she becomes emotionally attached is entirely up to the two of you."
A blonde girl that Nicco recognized popped into the office. "You called for me, sir?" She noticed Corelli next and smiled "Hey...Milton! How ya doing?"
Confused, Lorenzo corrected her; "Triela, this is Signor Nicolo Corelli, he will be assisting us during the investigation of the Assassino D'Essai murders."
"It's okay sir," chuckled Nicco (the first time he'd laughed since coming to the compound), "I met Triela a few days ago, we discussed John Milton, the English poet." He really hoped he would be working with this bright girl whom he had spoken with at the office.
The boss nodded. "I see. Triela, will you go to the dormitory and get Dario? Tell her she'll need an overnight bag & bring her here."
The girl cast her eyes down and searched for an excuse to beg out of a detail she did not desire. The folder in her hands provided a possible escape. "Sir...I'm kind of busy doing these translation corrections for Mr. Hillshire. They have to be done before 6pm, or..."
The gray bearded man whose name Nicolo had not caught yet snapped his fingers twice, and with a flick of his fingers summoned her to where he sat. Triela delivered the folder into his open hand. "Thanks Mr. Alboreto. But Chief Lorenzo, sir...Dario isn't going to like this, she's still really..."
"Triela," growled Alboreto softly, "the Chief gave you an order. If Dario refuses, tell her I am coming next." Never once did his volume rise above normal conversational tones.
"Yes sir" replied the girl, a little intimidated by his rumbling voice, but relieved to be carrying the promise of backup. She gave the men a nod and hurried out of the office.
"Interesting..." commented Nicco, "are you some kind of cyborg handler or something?"
They all laughed. "Only in the sense that all of us are, yourself included once you meet Dario" answered Elio, "I just have a...reputation...as one who doesn't accept much nonsense from the girls."
Chief Lorenzo spoke up with a chuckle; "Elio here is the only handler to have ever washed a back-talking cyborg's mouth out with soap." All the other handlers joined him in laughing, but Nicco thought that sounded awful.
"Your cyborg must have hated that" he replied.
"It wasn't even my cyborg" corrected Alboreto, managing to sound humorous & ominous at the same time.
Grinning, Pagani shook his head and asked "Are you ever gonna tell us which girl it was?"
"No," answered the older man, "it was between she & I alone, and I consider the matter closed. I haven't had any issues with her since that day." He took on a more serious tone and explained "You might have a few difficulties with Dario though. Since she lost her handler she's been surly, moody, and generally difficult to deal with. Even her room-mate moved out because she couldn't stand living with her. Perhaps we failed in not cracking down on such behavior sooner, but our staff psychiatric doctor advised us to give her space. Sorry to dump her in your lap, but Dario's really our only option. The other handlers will be available to help."
Lorenzo added "We'll be sending Elio out with you on your first few off-compound excursions. He's our resident expert on dealing with a difficult cyborg." Again, all the handlers laughed.
"So you'll be taking Dario & Marisa out on the town at the same time?" teased Alessandro, "You're crazier than everyone already thinks you are."
"Just Dario for the first day" replied Alboreto, "I may be daft, but I'm not stupid."
Eager to make conversation with the more experienced men, Nicco commented "I think I saw this Marisa earlier. She's the one who jumped off the dormitory roof."
"She did what?" growled Alboreto with utter seriousness, making Nicco regret he had even opened his mouth. Again the handlers laughed, but this time Alboreto did not join in with them.
Luckily, they were interrupted by the arrival of Triela & Dario. It seemed as if the two had been arguing all the way up to the door, but the instant they set foot in their Section Commander's office both girls hushed themselves quickly. Nicolo Corelli got his first look at the cyborg who would be his bodyguard. She stood a few centimeters shorter than Triela, and looked to be about 13 years old. Hanging at about shoulder length Dario's brown hair looked like it had been hastily brushed but not taken care of for the past few weeks. She seemed to be intentionally avoiding eye contact.
"Nicolo, this is Dario" introduced the Chief, "Dario, this is Signor Corelli, who you'll be working with starting tomorrow." The girl gave him a glance and an awkward introductory bow, but said nothing. With a displeased sigh Lorenzo continued "The both of you will need to head over to the Medical-Technology wing of the hospital so Dr. Belisario can begin the imprinting process. Dario, you'll be spending the night at the hospital, do you have everything you'll need?"
"Yes sir" the cyborg answered. She looked back over at Nicco and asked "Is he going to be my new handler?"
Michele Pagani spoke softly to her; "It's only a temporary arrangement for now. Mr. Corelli is going to be investigating the Arthouse Killer and you'll be his bodyguard. To answer your question; yes, you will treat him as you did your original handler."
"With one exception" interrupted Elio Alboreto, his voice gruffer than that of Pagani, "if for any reason your handler chooses to confiscate your weapon, give it to the nearest available staff member. Mr. Corelli is not yet certified to carry a pistol."
Both of the cyborgs present turned to stare at Corelli, their eyes wide with shock. Neither had ever met an Agency adult who was not certified to carry a side-arm. It was Triela who blurted out "Are you serious?" She instantly regretted the outburst when numerous sets of disapproving eyes, including those of the Chief, were set upon her. "Um, if you don't need anything else I'm going to go see if Mr. Hillshire needs me for anything." She made a careful & hasty retreat toward the door.
Dario watched her fellow cyborg depart with disinterest, and Nicco began to get the impression that they did not get along well. He already held a high opinion of Triela, and had been warned that Dario might be difficult to get along with, so he was filled with a sense of trepidation. It was not in Nicolo's nature to bark out orders and command respect; he was ashamed to find himself a little intimidated by this unassuming girl with slumping posture. She wore a dark red sweatshirt bearing a logo that Nicco did not recognize, along with light brown corduroy slacks and dirty tennis shoes...all a far cry from the professional attire that Triela sported both times he had seen her. With that thought Corelli admonished himself; stop comparing them...they're two different people, eh, cyborgs. The Chief was talking now, explaining something to Dario but Nicolo wasn't really paying attention; he was studying the girl who would be his new companion. As he did this he caught her giving him a sideways glance as well. Their eyes met momentarily, but the girl immediately broke it off when she realized she'd been noticed.
"It's getting late," Lorenzo finally announced, changing the tone of his voice to signal that he was now addressing both cyborg & provisional handler, "the two of you should be heading over to the hospital so Dr. Belisario & company can start the imprinting process."
It was Jean Croce that drove Nicolo & his new partner out to the hospital building, Corelli in the front seat of the Mercedes Benz he'd ridden in earlier with Jean's brother, Dario in the back. Jean dropped them off at the front entrance where they were met by a bald man with a goatee. "Signor Corelli, welcome, my name is Doctor Julian Belisario. We'll only need you for a few hours...Dario you'll be staying with us overnight, do you have everything you need?" The girl said nothing, simply lifting her small overnight duffel-bag to show that she was prepared.
The name had sounded familiar when he'd heard the Chief speak it, but Nicco had not been sure until this moment. "Just a moment," he interrupted, "you're...Dr. Julian Belisario? Formerly of the Università degli Studi di Torino?"
"Yes, I was on staff there for a time" muttered the Doctor, his voice a bit uneasy as if he had been remained of an unwelcome memory.
Corelli felt as if was in the presence of celebrity; "Sir, my room-mate at University had a picture of you on his wall...kept me up nights going on and on about the ground-breaking nature of your work. I'm afraid I couldn't follow a great deal of what he was attempting to explaining to me but what I did understand was astonishing. Sir, may I be so bold as to ask you for an autograph?...addressed to Timo Lombardi, that is Signor Timo Lombardi...he's not quite a full fledged Doctor yet."
Dr. Belisario was caught in an awkward moment. Never having been asked for his autograph before he felt loathe to turn the young man down, but; "Mr. Corelli...we do very secretive and cutting edge work here at the Social Welfare Agency...I'm sure you understand the need to maintain..."
"Oh, of course, I'm sorry!" replied Nicco, flushing crimson at his faux pas, "Say no more, I understand."
Still, the Doctor's ego would not let this opportunity escape entirely. He leaned forward and whispered "As long as you don't acknowledge where you've met me, I'm sure we can oblige. Perhaps you can tell him you ran into me at a cafe." Belisario changed his tone and announced "Good, if you'll follow me we'll start in the cardiac lab." The bald man led them both inside, leading the way with Nicolo behind him and Dario following silently along. Corelli glanced back at her a few times, but never got a reaction from the girl, who seemed to be apathetic & detached about the whole experience.
What Dario lacked as a conversationalist Dr. Belisario more than made up for. Much like Priscilla had done before he did his best to point out the purpose of every room they passed & introduce every single individual they crossed paths with. Nicco paused a few times, feeling an obligation to shake hands while being introduced to a new doctor or lab technician, earning him an annoyed snort from the cyborg behind, who had to stop short every time he did so then hurry to catch the fast walking Dr. Belisario.
"...and this" explained the Doctor, part of what seemed like one never ending sentence, "is where we'll begin the imprinting process. Signor Corelli if you'll please have a seat over here where Nurse Avalli is waiting for you...Dario, you know where to sit, go ahead and get started." Nicco sat down in a metal chair with minimal foam padding, and a smiling nurse wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt. The young man blushed a little, he happened to be uncommonly hairy, a fact he was a little self-conscious about. The nurse's eyebrows rose, and she gave a good natured smile of acknowledgment before fetching some shaving soap and a disposable razor, which she used to clear a few small patches of Nicolo's chest-carpet.
"Depending on ambient noise a cyborg can hear a human heartbeat from ten paces away" Belisario explained. "That's not ten of their short paces either. Every single girl is sub-consciously imprinted with the audible signature of their own handler's heartbeat so that she can distinguish it from others. This is helpful when searching for her master, or when trying to pinpoint the location of a hostile hiding nearby. As an added bonus; a cyborg can detect an arrhythmia and warn her handler of a potential heart attack up to seven minutes before actual myocardial infraction."
"Doctor, Mr. Corelli is 24 years old and in very good physical shape" chided Nurse Avalli, "I hardly think he needs to worry about a heart attack at this point in his life." She was wrong...Nicco worried about the threat of a spontaneous cardiac arrest quite a bit.
"Ah, yes, I'm sure you're right" muttered Belisario, "sometimes I tend to get carried away with these speeches. What is required is that you sit calmly for just fifteen minutes while we take in-depth biometric readings. I'm sorry our cardiovascular specialist Dr. Bergonzi is not available now; he could give you a much more fascinating overview of the process, but he is in surgery right now. Nurse, do you know how long he'll be?"
"No idea, Doctor" replied Avalli, "he's working on Signor Medino, the Section One man who was shot in the chest this morning."
"Shot in the chest?" gasped Nicco, unable to keep quiet at the ghastly news.
Belisario looked down at his console and replied casually "Signor Corelli, you must keep calm and maintain a steady heartbeat when we begin the recording. Agent Medino sustained a critical injury but his condition is regarded as stable. Such things simply come with the business we are in...Agent Corelli." Nicco was unsure how anyone could keep calm and maintain a steady heartbeat under these conditions.
The sensors were hooked up, the lights were lowered to create a peaceful atmosphere and the medical staff left the room, leaving Nicolo & Dario alone in the room together. The new agent felt the awkward need to say something, but breaking the ice was difficult. What do you say to a semi-artificial thirteen year old who might be called on to sacrifice her life for you? Surprisingly, it was Dario who spoke first.
"Have you really never been trained to use a handgun?" she asked.
Nicolo nodded. "That's true...is that strange?"
"I've just never met anyone who isn't trained" she answered, "everyone in the agency carries a weapon...except the doctors and even they come by the range to practice now and then."
There was another long period of silence between them before Nicco asked "So your name is Dario...I've never met a girl with that name." He stopped short of calling it a boy's name, but she took the inference.
"Lots of the cyborgs have male names" she retorted, "Claes, Rico, Donatello, Petrushka...and Agapita is just a feminization of a boy's name."
"Would you like to do that?" asked Corelli, "Feminize your name, or chose a new one?"
The girl looked puzzled, and a little worried. "What do you mean?"
"We could call you Daria," he suggested, "do you like that?"
"I don't want to change my name!" the girl shrieked, triggering a carnival of alarm buzzers and lights of all varieties.
Frantic, Nicolo tried to placate her "It's okay, it's okay...it was only a suggestion!"
"You change your name!" she exclaimed, but Nurse Avillia rushed in to calm things down.
"Both of you need to relax and stop shouting!" she ordered, "In order for the data to be useful you have to remain calm."
"Sorry" muttered Nicco, acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest.
Once she was gone there was another minute of total silence before the cyborg nervously inquired "So do I have to do it?"
"Do what?"
Dario answered "Change my name, sir."
"I though you'd pretty conclusively put down that suggestion" he muttered.
She turned her eyes down and replied "It's not my decision, sir. If you want to call me Merda di Cane then that's my new name. You're my handler."
"Dario, it's me who should feel like dog shit right now" Corelli said, "you keep whatever name you like."
Fifteen minutes later the monitoring was complete, and Nicco was ushered into another room without Dario. Dr. Belisario was not around anymore either. "We're going to give you a full head to toe MRI scan" Nurse Avillia explained, handing him a pale green paper robe. "In addition to being the best hire-on physical you'll ever get this allows us to map every millimeter of your face...more information which will be imprinted on your cyborg."
"Is there any radiation involved?" asked Nicco, trying his best to sound casual and not betray the nervousness he felt about being scanned.
"This isn't like a CT scan or an X-ray" the RN explained, "it uses a magnetic field and radio waves so there is no ionizing radiation. Even if we were using one of those other techniques you'd be exposed to less radiation than is put off by a single pack of cigarettes."
"I don't smoke" Nicolo told her.
Accustomed as she was to the scowling fatalistic veterans of both Special Ops sections Nurse Avillia did not know what to make of the somewhat milquetoast Public Safety man. "That's good" she simply replied, "you can get changed behind that curtain."
The scans took 20 minutes, and while Nicco lay on the cold steel table his cyborg came in. "Is it okay?" he heard her ask one of the technicians, who waved her through. "Mr. Corelli, sir, I'm done with your heartbeat imprinting. I have to stay overnight for hypnotic conditioning though. Is there anything else you require this evening?"
"Um, no, I don't think so Dario" he answered, unsure if he should be speaking during the scans. He lifted his head a little and caught her curiously peeking up his robe. With a disapproving furrow of his eyebrows Nicolo moved his legs closer together...nothing there a girl her age needs to be looking at.
"Mr. Corelli, please try not to move" admonished the lab tech, "re-run that last scan."
For her part Dario was a little embarrassed to have been caught peeking at her new master's equipment, so she stepped forward and continued "I'm expected to report to you before retiring for the night."
"Oh...okay" her handler replied, not sure what to say.
"I have scheduled training at the indoor shooting range tomorrow morning at 0900" she explained. "Cyborgs can't use the indoor range without an supervisor, so you have to be there."
"Indoor range, 9am...got it" Nicolo answered, although he was not even sure where that was.
She sat and watched him silently for a few moments before reminding "You have to dismiss me, sir."
"Oh...sorry!" Corelli laughed nervously, "Eh, consider yourself dismissed...and have a good night." The girl nodded deferentially and exited the room, leaving Nicco alone with the humming magnets, wondering if he'd ever feel relaxed around her.
_Fresh Fish_
Upon his release from the hospital an hour later Nicolo Corelli was presented with some reading material, a great deal of it in fact. Nurse Avilla provided him with The Section Two Handler's Policy Manual, a personalized dossier on Dario, a 40 page paper called Basic Cyborg Psychology: What to expect from your new trainee by Doctor Fernando Bianchi, a much shorter report on recommended conditioning guidelines by Jean Croce and a 292 page plastic spiral bound index of "Primary Commands" which the cyborgs where reputed to obey autonomically. Rather than balk at the homework load he was being assigned Nicco felt relieved. Books he was comfortable with...it was people (and now cyborgs) that gave him difficulty. Perhaps armed with the knowledge these pages could impart to him Nicco could expect an easier day tomorrow.
Determined not to go looking for help with every little thing Nicco made his way back to the handler's office building on his own. In such a vast building (at least compared to his cramped Public Safety branch office) there had to be an open desk somewhere, so he set about searching on the floor where Giuseppe Croce's office was located. The ground floor was a noisy public space where Nicco was sure to get no reading done, and the top floor seemed reserved for the higher-echelons of command. A dream situation presented itself when Nicco found an open office filled with books. It seemed somewhat lived-in, with a stainless steel thermos full of tea on the desk and fresh linen on the bed. Despite this there was no name-plate on the door so Nicco switched the lamp on, hung his coat from the back of the chair & settled in for a satisfying night of study.
Corelli would be denied that satisfaction though. Without knocking a rusty haired man in his mid-30's popped in. "You're the new chap? Corelli, right?" he asked in Italian which sounded like it carried a Northern Irish accent.
"Umm...yes...I'm..."
"Nicolo Corelli, I know" the man replied, shaking his hand with a firm but not crushing grip, "Brian McDonnell; pleased to meet you. We've been looking all over for you...Nurse Camilla said you left the hospital without calling for a ride."
Nicco was mortified, he'd honestly thought he was finished for the day. What else is there for me to do? "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was looking for me."
"Just grab your coat and come on" said McDonnell, "the guys are waiting."
The two men walked downstairs and outside to where a white Ford Transit van sat idling. "I found our fresh fish!" announced Brian, hopping in the back and holding the door for Nicco, "That means the first round is on...not me."
"I think tonight's mission objective should be, as it is every night, to ensure Michele gets drunk enough to pick up the entire tab himself" laughed a square-jawed man who spoke with his hands as much as his voice.
A sharply groomed fellow Nicolo recognized from earlier suggested "Maybe I could just agree to pay the tab ahead of time and spare myself the hangover?" The one Nicco assumed to be Michele had been sporting an impeccable suit earlier, but now he had changed into a red polo shirt bearing the prancing horse crest of Scuderia Ferrari.
"Bah, we'd feel awkward letting you agree to pay ahead of time" teased the first man, "better to let you get good and loaded first then pretend to argue with you over the check."
"Where was our missing FNG?" asked the driver (a dark skinned man that looked to Nicco to be at least partially Middle Eastern) as he slipped the van into gear and pulled away slowly.
"La Biblioteca di Claes" answered Brian.
"What the hell were you doing in there?" chuckled Michele.
"I had a lot of reading to do" answered Nicco, "it seemed like a good place. Um, may I ask where we're going?"
The driver explained; "There's a taverna down the road, we figured you could use a drink..."
"Or ten" chimed in Brian.
"...seeing it's your first day." And thusly, Nicolo Corelli was swept along to go drinking with a delegation of handlers from Section Two.
_The Furniture Importers_
The taverna sat alone on a somewhat remote stretch of road not far from the SWA compound. It could have just as easily been described as a tattoria, having a small dining room in the front, but it was to the bar where Nicolo was led by his new colleagues, specifically a back room somewhat (but not completely) isolated from the tavern proper.
Giuseppe Croce was with them, but not his older brother. The dark haired man who had brought Nicco down the proverbial rabbit hole earlier took a cautious look in both directions and pulled a high-tech looking wand from his coat. As Michele & Brian guarded the archway that led out into the bar & dining room he passed the wand around the room, under tables and past the wall sconces. It emitted a fluctuating humming tone which Corelli did not understand, but seemed to please Croce. He gave a confident nod and all the handlers relaxed, taking off their coats and staking out chairs. "Sweeping for bugs" explained Giuseppe, "this place is pretty safe but it doesn't hurt to be careful if you're going to be talking shop." Nicco felt a little foolish for thinking about actual insects before realizing Croce was scanning for listening devices.
Introductions were made, and with only 5 new names to remember things were a lot easier on Nicolo. He had already met Giuseppe Croce, Brian McDonnell had introduced himself back at headquarters and Michele Pagani was the man in the red polo shirt whom he'd seen in the Chief's office. New to Corelli was Jacob Mehrandish, who had been driving the van, and Avise Mancini, the jovial square jawed fellow who was already summoning a barmaid to take their drink orders.
To Nicco's dismay the barmaid (who greeted the five handlers with cheerful familiarity) asked for the newcomer's order first. In an assemblage of hardened killers he was not sure what he should order. He assumed these men had pure fiery grappa flowing through their veins...or in the case of the one Irishman, whiskey. Pagani relieved his worries though by taking advantage of Nicco's hesitation to jump ahead and order a strawberry daiquiri. Croce & Mancini each asked for red wine, Mehrandish the driver got his cola for free, and McDonnell ordered a beer. Breathing a sigh of relief Corelli felt comfortable asking for a light Vernaccia di San Gimignano, but the barmaid laughed as if he was telling a joke and said she'd bring him the house white.
"A fine palate for vino you have, Corelli, one perhaps too fine for a roadhouse like this" chuckled Giuseppe, "still, if you feel peckish tonight this place makes a surprisingly good tiramisu." Pagani nodded his head in assent.
"I see" replied Nicolo. Croce's reminder did bring to his attention the fact that he had not eaten since lunch, and was rushing into a night of potentially heavy drinking on an empty stomach. The other men seemed to have already addressed that issue though, as Mehrandish & Mancini were earnestly reviewing the menu, selecting a few antipasto platters for the whole table. "This seems like a nice place...and not too far from the compound. Do you ever take your cyborgs here?"
"Absolutely not!" declared McDonnell, slapping the table with his open palm for emphasis, "By mutual agreement of all adult Section Two members, handlers & staff alike, this establishment has been declared a zero-cyborg zone!"
"Personally I don't see what harm there is in bringing them during the daytime, for lunch" mumbled Giuseppe, but from the tone of his voice it was obvious that he knew his suggestion was going to be shot down.
"Don't get soft on me, Croce" warned the Irishman, "we all agreed to this! Having one spot in all of Italy that we can get away from the girls is the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."
"Since when are you sane?" Jacob snuck in a jab.
Dismay must have shown on Nicco's face because Michele felt the need to explain "It's not as bad as he's making it sound. Everyone at this table is very fond of their cyborg, but I'm sure you understand the need for a little grown-up time."
At the sound of a quick whistle from Jacob they all stopped talking, but commenced laughing as if someone had told a joke. He had seen the barmaid returning with their first round of drinks, and everyone was acutely tuned to the signal. "You guys are always laughing at something when I come in" she remarked, holding a tray with one hand & skillfully flipping down coasters on the table with the other.
"A mere expression of our mirth at your most eagerly anticipated arrival, oh purveyor of splendid libation!" pronounced Avise, rising to help her with the drinks. She rolled her eyes at his bombastic display.
"I hope you know; a silver tongue won't be enough to get into my pants" she laughed.
"Then you have provided me with a most lofty aspiration, dear lady" he continued to tease, depositing her tip onto the tray.
She regarded the €10 note approvingly and said "I'll say this; you jokers are the best tipping bunch of furniture importers who ever come in here." With that she left.
"Furniture importers?" muttered Nicolo. It wasn't a particularly glamorous cover story for a group of secret agents.
"A running joke" sighed Mancini, taking his orotund manner down a notch but not abandoning it entirely, "when Section Two members first started coming here they thought it was a good ruse...it explained why some of us might be absent for long periods, and gave us a clever excuse for having stories involving international travel. Over time Section Two grew & unfortunately Section One also liked the story enough that they all became furniture importers too...and did I fail to mention that there is no furniture import company in this area?" Nicco laughed along with everyone at this comedy of errors. "The staff here obviously doesn't know what goes on at the top secret government compound down the road, but they know that we're involved. It's just a bit of inside humor...we're all still ostensibly furniture importers if anyone asks."
"One of the reasons we come here is that they just accept our business without a lot of questions" added Brian.
As the night progressed the Section Two handlers proved their business worthy of consideration, ordering a several trays of pane, formaggio & molluschi as well as round after round of drinks. Nicolo felt obligated to keep pace with his new colleagues, which sometimes meant gulping down a whole glass of wine when the waitress arrived to bring a replacement. Try as he might, the young man could not maintain the impressive rate of consumption demonstrated by Avise Mancini, who was soon on his feet encouraging one of the idle tattoria waitresses (there were few customers for dinner at this late hour) to take her place at the upright piano so that he might have accompaniment whilst he regale the party with song. Despite his slurred speech Avise maintained a fine singing voice, and the applause of the other patrons only impelled him to deliver a few more traditional Italian favorites.
"Bravissimo Avise!" laughed Michele, clapping as the Bersagliere took a bow and slacked his thirst with another glass of chianti. Pagani turned to Nicco and said "Just wait until he gets into the regimental stuff...he's saving that up for later."
"Are most of you guys ex-military?" asked Corelli, "Is it some kind of requirement to become a handler?"
Giuseppe Croce answered; "Everyone here is...but it's not a requirement. Michele was Aeronautica Militaire, Avise has already told you he was in the Bersaglieri, and I was in the Tuscania parachute regiment...my brother as well." He turned to McDonnell and Mehrandish, and added "These two served back in their own home countries...in fact the first time I met Jacob here was in Bosnia, when he was with KFOR."
"That brings up another question I had" ventured Nicolo, daring to ask a lot more questions than he would have completely sober. "For such a top-secret Italian organization there are certainly a lot of foreign nationals. I mean...that Mr. Hillshire was obviously German, even though he has a British name...I'm guessing Brian is an Ulsterman from North Ireland...and Jacob, you are..." He paused timidly. Mehrandish was not drinking alcohol, and looked very Middle Eastern.
"Canadian" answered Jacob, adding a little growl to his voice, "my Father was from Iran."
Since he had not really gotten an answer to what he was wondering (specifically; is Mehrandish Muslim?) he pressed a bit. "Umm, I noticed that you're not drinking alcohol, does that mean you are...?" He faltered, worrying that it might be too personal a question.
"The designated driver" Jacob replied, knowing exactly what Corelli wanted to ask, but not giving him an answer. Desperate to hide his embarrassment Nicco took a heavy swig from his wine glass.
Pagani maneuvered them past the tense moment; "Getting back to your question about non-Italian's: A program like this exists at the absolute highest echelons of secrecy. In that rarefied atmosphere there just isn't a huge hiring pool to select from. The worldwide intelligence and special operations community exists as kind of its own entity...for example I don't exchange much more than friendly pleasantries with my own neighbors back in Rome, but I get a Christmas card every year from a Nadia Petrovna, a Russian FSB agent I've worked with in Kosovo and later Geneva."
"I understand" said Corelli, nodding his head. "So being a native Italian citizen isn't as important as having proven your ability to keep secrets at this high a level."
"Given the Padania situation Italian citizens are just as suspect as foreigners" elaborated Giuseppe, "believe me, Chief Lorenzo & my brother Jean put you through some pretty rigorous background investigations before letting you in."
"So who's been here the longest?" Nicco asked.
Jacob thought for a second and asked "Handlers, or the whole staff? Lorenzo obviously, and I think Ferro was the first one the Chief recruited...but Vic Hillshire has been a handler the longest."
"Yes, but Michele here was around in a different capacity even before Victor" contended Giuseppe, "He worked with the engineering team for the first cyborg, Angelica."
The young analyst had not even considered that there had to have been a first cyborg, a prototype for all the rest, but it made sense. "What was that like?" he asked Michele.
Pagani leaned back in his chair. His entire demeanor took on an air of nostalgia as he explained "It was rewarding, but I can't sugar coat how rough it was...engineering-wise but also emotionally. Elements of Angelina's cyborg body were ready for trials before the brainwashing process was, so we began the build process while she still had memory of her life at home. That was an enormous mistake. She regained consciousness earlier than expected from the first surgery and nobody was with her...so she awoke alone to discover her legs had been amputated and replaced. Angelina started screaming and panicking...she had no idea what to think of all this, she was just an unfortunate ten year old girl to whom nobody had explained what we were going to do."
"Jeeze" muttered Nicco, at the heavy turn the conversation had taken.
Pagani continued; "Since we hadn't conditioned her yet the man who would become her handler, a NOCS officer named Marco Toni, was just another guy to her, so even he was helpless to calm Angelina down. Eventually she had to be re-sedated.
"As time passed she got used to the idea that she had new mechanical parts every time she woke up from a surgery...and it was really a bonus when the physical therapists began teaching her to walk again. There were still enormous technical problems though. The central interface processor messed with her muscle memory, and she had to wear diapers until we sorted out the problem. This was devastating to her because just a few days earlier she'd been in complete control of that sort of thing. It had to be humiliating...you know they don't make diapers for a child her size, so we had to take the the smallest adult size we could find and hold them on with tape. No sooner had that been sorted she inexplicably lost the ability to swallow and had to be fed via naso-gastric tube for a week."
"It sounds rough" Nicolo commented, "do all the cyborgs have it that rough when they're...um, born? Built? Activated? I don't really know what term describes it best."
"We tend to call it call it waking up" McDonnell informed him. "There's an adjustment period with all new cyborgs, how fast they adjust to their new life depends on the individual girl and the work the handler puts in with her. Jacob's second one was a nightmare at first. You won't have to worry about all that...your Dario is already 100% functional and mission ready."
"Being part of that initial period was worth it though," continued Pagani, rambling a bit as his head swam in white rum, "once Angelina got her brainwash Marco renamed her Angelica to signify a new start. Even though she had no memory of how she got them the new girl accepted her cybernetic parts without question. There were immense difficulties of course...it was all brand new technology...but she was amazing. Section Two, and those few of us who were just helping out all came from some pretty rough backgrounds but it was absolutely impossible not to fall in love with that little girl and her thousand watt smile. In no time we were sitting around in our idle hours writing fairy tales to keep her entertained!
"Things like walking, writing, and holding a fork were struggles but once she got that body sorted out Angelica learned her combat skills unbelievably quickly. After one embarrassing incident involving two of the training staff they decided to give her an audition in the field...and that's how Section Two got its start."
He was silenced by a quick whistle from Jacob as the bar-maid arrived with another round for the five men around the table (Avise was still at the piano, flush with free drinks sent to him by appreciative patrons). As soon as she was gone Nicco asked "Will I get to meet this Angelica?"
Pagani gave a wan smile and replied "No. Cyborgs live fast and unfortunately die hard. Angelica was at peace at the end, but it must be said, she went with a great deal of honor." Giuseppe nodded, and patted his colleague on the shoulder; knowing what sorrow it still held for Michele. Corelli did not even know what the little girl had looked like, but from the reactions of the grim & hardened campaigners around the table he could see that in her short life she had achieved a great deal of respect in even their battle-weary eyes. Nicolo doubted he could ever earn that much respect from men such as these, and if he even merited a place within this assemblage.
Jacob, the only sober one in the group, rescued the company from its own maudlin mood by asking "So Corelli, what do you & Dario have on the agenda for your first day together?"
"I'm...I'm supposed to meet her somewhere" muttered Nicolo, his mind clouded by wine. "The range...the indoor range, or the outdoor...shit."
"Then you're headed into Rome with Mr. A, right?" offered Giuseppe. The other men hooted and delivered low, ominous sounding howls.
"What?" the analyst asked nervously, "Should I be concerned about something?"
"Not at all" explained McDonnell, "it's just that Elio Alboreto's been in this business a very long time. Working with him can be a bit intense."
Pagani smiled and offered "The first time I worked with him he'd already been holed up on a stake-out in a rat-hole apartment in Sicily for a week...in the summer, with no air conditioning, and he was still drinking his tea hot like an Englishman."
"I heard that on her first mission he made his cyborg cut off the target's fingers one by one" Croce offered.
Jacob chimed in with his contribution "I heard he turned down the Vice Presidency of Angola." Nicco was beginning to get a feel for their game.
"I heard old man Alboreto once drank 27 pints of Guinness without havin' a piss" contributed Brian McDonnell on his turn.
On cue, Mancini walked over and announced "It has recently come to my attention that Elio Alboreto once lived in a cave with a female bear for six months, and it was she that eventually moved out because of his ill temperament." That one drew laughter & applause from the men; apparently it was a new one they hadn't heard before. They all turned to Nicco and waited expectantly.
"Ehhh..." he stalled for time, trying to think of a good one. He chose to use the only bit of gossip he'd yet heard about the middle-aged handler; "I heard Signor Alboreto once washed a cyborg's mouth out with soap...and lived to tell about it!" His contribution to the game was a success, and he was rewarded with toasts and back slapping congratulations for having held his own. Perhaps, Nicolo considered, I do have a place with this crowd.
_Home on the Compound_
Closing time eventually came and although Avise managed to delay the inevitable by delivering one more song the furniture importers were chased out the door with friendly admonishments to "stop in again soon!"
Jacob rounded up his merry band, ushering them into the van so he could drop them off on compound and at their respective homes. For the ride back Nicolo selected the front passenger seat in order that he may have a window available in case the combination of motion and the excess of wine he had consumed conspired to effect the rapid evacuation of his stomach contents. As Michele & Brian sat behind him, drunkenly debating the differences between quiche (the dish) and kitsch (the decorating style), Nicco took a few moments to consider that he'd completed none of the reading he'd hoped to accomplish tonight, and would be going into his first full day armed with little more than a greater knowledge of Agency history & culture, and a splitting headache.
They arrived at the front gate and struggled with a new delay; as Corelli's Public Safety credentials were once again deemed inadequate to enter the compound. Eventually the night's duty officer was contacted, and Priscilla was able to convince the security staff to allow Section Two's newest handler in.
At the office building Nicolo Corelli climbed out, thanking his colleagues for a memorable night (and thanking Michele Pagani profusely for paying the considerable tab). He was surprised to see Avise stumble out of the van with him, turning to walk backwards as he belted out one last rendition of the Neapolitan classic O Solo Mio. "Aren't you going home as well?" he asked the Bersagliere.
"I am home" replied Mancini, "such is my devotion to the Italian Republic that I make my abode upon the very installation at which I serve!"
"Actually he's just a cheap bastard" pointed out Mehrandish, with a sly grin "saves money by living on compound...he doesn't even own a car, he just signs one out of the agency motor pool when he needs to go somewhere." Avise simply snorted in indignation, made a wobbly about-face and marched up the stairs into the building.
Nicolo was surprised how fast the ex-military man could negotiate stairs in his condition; for his part he had to hold onto the hand-rail for dear life and silently implore the fates to stop the room from spinning. He managed to catch up with Avise in the second floor hallway. "Eh...Major Mancini...Avise...this may be a stupid question, but if you live here does that mean there's a bathroom with showers?"
"End of the hall" replied Avise, pointing. Corelli was about to inquire about towels and other sundries when they were joined by Priscilla, coming to check on her two arrivals after what was certainly a night of heavy imbibition.
"Glad to see you two made it home in one piece" she joked, "so they took you down to that taverna down the road?"
"Yes ma'am" answered the analyst, a little embarrassed to be seen in his inebriated condition. Mancini had no such compunctions though; he grabbed Priscilla by the waist and hand, sweeping her up in a waltz whilst once again bursting into song.
"Signor Corelli here, has a prob-lem I fear! He is in need my dear; towels and some shaving gear!" Into his waltz he threw an unexpected dip, sweeping Priscilla's head within inches of the floor.
This drew a laughing shriek from the Agency's intelligence officer, who cried out "Avise don't you dare drop me or I'm telling Agapita all about that woman in Ostia!" Nicco could not help but smile at their capering.
Mancini straightened up, released his breathless dance partner and gave an exaggerated formal bow. "I think I'll go downstairs to the canteen...I really need a coffee."
"No you don't need coffee!" Priscilla scolded, turning him by the shoulders to face his own door, "You need to go to bed before somebody sees you in this condition. Good night, Major Mancini!"
Once he was gone Priscilla gave an exasperated laugh and said "I hope those guys weren't too brutal with you this evening. I'd have gone myself to keep an eye on things but I had the duty tonight."
"Not at all, it was delightful" Nicolo answered, feeling nervous and awkward about his choice of words before they had even left his lips.
"So what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" she asked, but then checked her wrist-watch and corrected "I'm sorry; later today?"
Shaking his head in an effort to think more clearly Nicco replied "I've got to meet Dario at the range at 9am...but I don't even know where that is."
"Okay, indoor or outdoor?" inquired Priscilla.
Corelli was ashamed to answer "I forgot."
"Well, the girls can use the outdoor range alone, under the supervision of the range officer, but not the indoor range" she helped him along with a few hints.
The hints worked to jog his alcohol fogged memory. "Oh yeah...she said I needed to be there, so it must be the indoor range."
"Good!" Priscilla praised him without sounding too patronizing. "Turn right when you leave this building and it's about a half kilometer down the concrete footpath, in-between our portion of the compound and Section One's. If you need directions make sure to ask one of our people, the Sec One folks think it's funny to send our newbies on a wild goose chase all over the compound. So what's up after that?"
"Dario & I are going into Rome with Mr. Alboreto" he told her.
"Yikes," she gasped, "on your first day?" Priscilla shuddered a little and explained "I walked in on him in the evidence room once...he was taking a working lunch while reviewing the captured snuff porn videos. I couldn't even look at the screen it was so horrible, but he was just sitting there eating a sandwich and taking notes on any little bit of evidence he could pick out!" A palpable chill ran down her spine.
"Oh wait..." said Nicolo, misreading the situation badly, "I know this game...I heard Mr. Alboreto once wrestled a crocodile and..."
"Nicco I was being serious;" she deadpanned "sometimes I get the shivers just walking into the evidence rooms & knowing those discs are sitting on the shelves." The two stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Priscilla remembered "Towel! You need a towel and some toiletries! We might have something down in the store room, I'll be right back." As she hurried off Nicolo bitterly cursed his social ineptitude. She had gone from riotous laughter while Avise was there to awkward silence with him in just moments.
Priscilla returned just a few minutes later; crimson faced but unable to contain sympathetic laughter. "Mr. Corelli, I'm so sorry" she giggled in spite of herself, "but this is all we have." She offered him a kit containing a hairbrush, toothbrush, various soaps, deodorant & toothpaste as well as a hand mirror, all in a clear vinyl zipper bag. Everything inside the bag was pink. "It's the starter kit we give the girls on their first day...I'm afraid we don't have anything else."
"Beggars can't be choosers" he sighed, accepting the toiletries kit from her.
"I promise tomorrow will be better" she consoled, "someday you're going to look back at this and consider it all pretty funny."
"It's already pretty funny" Nicco assured her, although he was getting a bit tired of being the butt of every cosmic joke.
Priscilla continued "I wouldn't use the shampoo unless you want to smell like strawberries, but the other stuff should be safe. Again, I'm really sorry about this. Hope you have a good night, Nicolo."
"Thank you Priscilla."
Nicco made his way to the bathroom and washed up as best he could. When it came time to brush his teeth he shook his head at a pink handled brush that was too small for his hand, but made the best of what he had. Finishing up Nicco made his way back to the office where he'd left his untouched "homework" pile and flopped down on the bed. At least the room wasn't spinning anymore. Lacking any night-clothes Corelli stripped down to his briefs and nestled between the sheets. It's only 3am...maybe I can get some reading done before I go to sleep. It was not to be though; Nicco passed into a dreamless slumber with the lamp on and the Dr. Bianchi's Basic Cyborg Psychology in his hands. His last thought as he drifted off was that the pillow he slept on had a faint perfume of strawberries.
END OF SECOND CHAPTER