TEN
IL FORTINO DI PUGLIA HOTEL
SAVELLERTI, ITALY
Even in mid-December, the weather along the heel of Italy's boot remained mild and Kara inhaled deeply as a breeze ruffled the sheer curtains surrounding the sliding door and brought in the strong, salty tang of the Adriatic Sea mere meters beyond the patio.
They'd arrived that afternoon after a 600km drive from Rome, across Italy via the A24 to Pescara and then down the Adriatic Coast along the A14. During the five hours they'd been on the road, Michele said little and Kara silently stewed, unable to understand why her handler seemed so preoccupied with Angelica.
Before they'd left, Kara heard that the doctors had been able to repair her injuries and those of her handler; however she'd heard whispering amongst the handlers in the office that they didn't think Angelica would live much longer. She'd asked Michele, but he'd brushed her question aside, instructing her to prepare for the mission they were now undertaking.
She'd then timidly approached 'The Princess' at dinner last night, whom had informed her that she remembered Michele visiting the medical center during her conversion and training, which often included Angelica, and that he and Angelica clearly seemed to know each other.
"Shall we go?" Michele asked as he entered from the bathroom, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.
"Yes," Kara said, sitting down on the bed and pulling on her boots. She rose and fanned the pleats of her knee-length skirt followed by adjusting her white long-sleeve sweater.
As she walked by, Michele reached out and touched her shoulder. An electric tingle flowed through Kara's body, but she fought it down and continued on into the hall and out the door.
Sighing, Michele followed her out onto the patio and down a few doors to the room shared by Alessandro and Petrushka room.
"How is your stomach?" Petrushka whispered as Kara sat next to her on one of the two double beds.
"Fine," Kara replied, her sour mood curdling a bit more at the memory of yesterday afternoon. Michele had asked her to meet him for dinner so they could discuss the mission and Kara, annoyed that her handler was spending almost all of his free time at the hospital with Angelica, opened her mouth to tell him she refused. The next thing she knew she was bent over and spewing her lunch of risotto across the tops of her €1000 boots.
Michele seemed even more surprised than Kara who, terrified at the loss of control and embarrassed at vomiting, promptly ran off, closing her ears to Michele's worried calls as her stomach dry-heaved. She found a water spigot by the side of the building and ran the lower part of her boots under the stream and then patted them dry using paper towels in the bathroom. To top off her indignity, she ended up being three minutes late for Mister Hilshire's literature class and had to face one of his lectures on punctuality.
"I've made initial contact with Matteo Amati and informed him that I have identified a financier for the smuggling operation he and I discussed last month," Alessandro reported.
"I thought we were supposed to be the good guys," Petrushka noted with a scowl.
"We are the good guys," her handler replied with his usual easy smile.
"Then why don't we just kill them?"
"Because the 'Ndrangheta does not have a defined leadership hierarchy. There is no Don running the entire show, like the Mafia. So there is no snake to cut the head off of. Instead, the 'Ndrangheta are more like a hydra – cut off a head, and two more sprout out as the capo bastone or caporegime just take over."
"Why are these people even a problem?" Kara asked. "They live in the South so they are not Padania."
Alessandro looked to Michele, who pinched his nose.
"Sorry. I haven't had a chance to brief her," he replied, keeping to himself the the true reason – that Kara had not made herself available to be briefed.
"For the past few decades the 'Ndrangheta have been emigrating to Latin America, Canada and Australia," Alessandro noted. "When the Columbian cartels were looking for new import partners in the 1990s, the 'Ndrangheta were a perfect choice as they were already well entrenched in the North American, European and Australian markets. So they now import close to half of all the cocaine in Europe, most of it through the port city of Gioia Tauro. They make literally tens of billions of Euro and this has allowed them to buy a not-insignificant portion of the law enforcement presence in Reggio Calabria and greased many palms in adjoining regions as they need to get this product into Europe and Milan is the preferred distribution center."
Michele placed a slim carbon fiber attaché case on the bed. He ran his thumbs over an embedded fingerprint reader next to each lock, springing them open to allow him access. Inside were stacks of €100 bank notes: 100 notes per stack and arranged four rows deep and three rows across for a total of 12 stacks. Next to them were six rows of gold Krugerrands in clear polyvinyl, 100 coins per row – one row each of one and one-half ounce coins and two rows each of one-quarter and one-tenth ounce. On top of it all were thirty large treasury bills issued by the Banca d'Italia, each denominated for €10.000.
"We could have a good time with that," Alessandro noted, admiring the contents.
"Until Jean Croce hunted us down," Michele quipped as he closed the case.
"Why the different types of securities?" Petrushka asked.
"Flexibility," Michele replied. "The bearer bonds will be used for large purchases, while the cash is an initial 'seed' to pay for operating expenses and salaries. And the gold is for payment for operatives that don't use the Euro or who want maximum liquidity."
"To think that for Padania and 'Ndrangheta were smashing each other over the Straight of Messina bridge project, and now they're building one – using drug money as the cement," Alessandro noted as he slapped the case.
"I take it that they don't like each other?" Kara asked.
"The 'Ndrangheta and Padania spent the 1970s in a very tense relationship as the former were kidnapping rich northerners for ransom. Well, a number of those people were private backers of Padania and Padania didn't respond well when some of those backers ended up dead when their ransoms were not paid in a timely manner and there were some reprisals.
"When Italy joined the Schengen Area in 1997, that opened up the borders with France and Austria and the 'Ndrangheta came to Padania and offered them a piece of the action to help move product. Padania, already working with Italian and Albanian criminal organizations helping smuggle Turks into Germany, saw the money they could make and quickly let bygones be bygones and signed up."
"So what, exactly, are we doing here?" Kara asked.
"We're going to try and get our own piece of the action," Alessandro replied. "You handler is carrying a half-million Euro, which we will use to buy into a human smuggling project one of the local cammorista is launch in a bid to improve his position and stature. Once we are in, we can use him to identify how drug monies are flowing into Padania and the Five Republics."
In the room, the four changed into their personae. Alessandro became "Niccolo Baggio" through adding a black wig, mustache and beard while Petrushka put on a blonde wig and make-up. For attire, Alessandro donned a long sleeve print button-down shirt in "Italian Plum" overlaid with a beige ornate floral print worn over sand-colored lightweight chino cotton pants while Petrushka went with a black tank top with small white polka dots, cut-off jean shorts and black mid-calf flat-soled leather boots.
Michele, playing the role of "Donatello Marchetti", inserted blue contact lenses to go with the grey streaks added to his hair. He chose for his outfit items from his "informal Armani" collection: a textured one-button jacket in white, long-sleeve jersey shirt in gray with charcoal stripes and charcoal micro-fiber pants. Black Gucci leather drivers completed his outfit. Kara went with a red sweater and black denim miniskirt with black knee-high boots.
"Can we talk, Kara?" Michele asked as they started for their car.
"If I say no, I'll evidently throw up, so I guess I don't have a choice since I didn't bring a spare outfit."
"I know you're upset with me and you do have cause. And I promise when this is over I will explain my actions and myself. But I need you focused right now. Alessandro's a cool customer, but I can tell he's a bit worried about us at the moment."
"Sorry to embarrass you," Kara said, her voice tinged with false sarcasm because she really was sorry and embarrassed at her behavior. Still, Michele was her handler and she felt he had to understand that and when he acted differently, it hurt her emotionally.
Despite it being very dry, climate-wise, the region of Apulia's economy placed a strong emphasis on agriculture and the low plains were covered in farmland. With Alessandro's smart fortwo cabriolet in the lead, the Ricci and Pagani fratelli pulled off a side road into one of those farms and before a copse of trees. Alessandro pulled next to Matteo Amati's parked Lancia Ypsilon and exited. The two embraced in the Italian tradition.
"Welcome," Amati said as Michele and Kara came forward, his eyes roaming across Kara's figure.
"Don't bother, Matteo. You don't make enough money to interest her," Alessandro quipped.
"Speaking of money, you have the funds?" Amati asked. Michele reached behind his seat and removed the briefcase. Matteo nodded and brought his cellphone to his face. He spoke softly for a few moments and then hung up.
"They are ready for us," he noted and started for a gap in the trees. As they passed through, two young men in overalls with prominent bulges under their leather jackets were waiting for them. Michele correctly identified them as common soldiers - picciotti d'onore – and for a moment he feared they might frisk them for weapons, but they merely remained standing, apparently content in the belief that they could handle a petty crook, a rich dandy and their two whores.
Ahead, two more stood to either side of a slightly older, but still young, man in a navy blue herringbone suit of worsted wool waited for them. His bearing made it clear he was the cammorista in charge of the picciotti d'onore and Amati approached him deferentially.
"Cammorista Barese, may I introduce to you Signore Marchetti and Baggio and their comare."
Both Kara and Petrushka internally bristled at being called a "mistress", but kept their expressions and body language relaxed.
"You have the money?" Barese said, his hard voice out of place with his soft face and nice clothes.
"As you demanded," Michele said. He opened the case and presented it to Barese, whose eyes widened at the sight of the bills and bullion. He nodded his head, his tongue slipping past his tight lips to lubricate them.
"Very well," Barese said when Michele re-latched the case. He turned to the guard on the left and nodded his head. Without warning, he removed a Berretta 8000L pistol from his jacket pocket, aimed it squarely at Michele, and put two rounds into his chest, the impact of the rounds knocked him backwards onto the ground.
As if teleported, Petrushka appeared in front of Alessandro. The speed of her movement threw off the other picciotti d'onore, who was slow to withdraw his weapon. The muzzle had barely cleared the pocket when the 9x19mm round from Petrushka's PT92 entered his forehead, scrambling his brains and dropping him like a marionette whose strings had been cut. She wheeled on the other guard and put a round through his throat, blowing out his windpipe and major blood vessels.
Kara, quick as a mongoose on a cobra, slid her FN Five-seveN from the holster in the small of her back and dropped as she pivoted on the sole of her right boot. She fired twice at each guard by the trees, dropping them both before they had a chance to aim their own weapons. She then dropped to her knees over her handler.
"Michele!" she yelled, pulling open his jacket. The white shirt underneath showed two rough holes where the 9x19mm bullets passed through and then squashed against the custom body armor made of the same CFRP fibers that was used in the cyborgs.
"I'm fine," Michele said, coughing. "Son of a bitch that hurt!"
Kara helped him up and then went over to ensure both guards were in fact dead.
Petrushka had her PT92 aimed squarely at Barese, who stood stunned at how quickly the two girls had dispatched his security detail. Alessandro had pulled his own weapon and pressed it up against Matteo Amati's temple.
"Explain yourself," he hissed.
"I didn't know!" Amati blubbered. "I swear!"
His eyes darted to Barese.
"What the hell were you thinking? We had a deal!"
"A deal that profited you more than me," Barese spat.
While he tried to look tough, Kara and Petrushka could easily detect the undertone of stress in Barese's voice as well as read the tenseness in his body language.
"You two can decide who screwed who later," Michele growled. "Tell us about the cocaine smuggling to Milan."
"Cocaine smuggling?" Barese said, confused. "Our agreement was the smuggling of people," he added, looking to Amati.
"We don't care about some Turkish immigrants," Michele said, forcing Barese to focus back on him. "The 'Ndrangheta control the cocaine trade in Italy and ships much of the product Europe consumes. We know once it reaches Milan, Padania helps get it across the border into France, Switzerland and Austria. I want to know about that arrangement."
Barese laughed. "Do you think I would tell you?"
Michele motioned to Kara, who came forward. Barese gave a mocking smile to the teenager, but that smile missed a number of teeth a moment later as Kara's fist connected with his mouth, knocking him on his back.
She placed her boot on his arm near his wrist and slowly pressed down. Barese started to squirm, then scream as first his radius and then his ulna fractured under the pressure she applied. Kara lifted her boot slightly and moved it up his arm, then again pressed down until the two arm bones snapped below his elbow. She pulled her boot back and Barese tried to cradle his arm, tears streaming down his face.
"Should I have her start on your humerus, next?" Michele asked.
"You're all dead!" Barese said. "My brother will not stop until you're all a dozen meters in the ground!"
Michele found Barese's bravado pitiful. The cammorista knew he was beaten, and yet his youthful pride demanded he try and save face. He again nodded to Kara, who came forward. Barese immediately went fetal, trying to protect his arms. Kara hooked the toe of her boot under his arm and knocked it out. Barese reached out to protect it, stretching his legs. Kara shifted her position and stomped the block heel of her boot down on his knee, shattering it and sending Barese into a fresh fit of animalistic howling.
Amati pissed himself.
Michele leaned towards Barese, careful to stay out of arm and leg range, though Kara hovered nearby, ready to strike if the cammorista made a move against her handler.
"You know by now you will never see your brother again, Barese. The real question is how much you intend to suffer before I let you slip into that long night. I need information, and I believe you to have it. So, what will it be?"
Barese decided he'd suffered enough.
Amati flinched as Kara's gun discharged, a crimson pool spilling out from under Barese's head. She collected the shell casing and followed Michele to his Ferrari.
"Wha-wha-what about me?" Amati said. "I swear I didn't know what Barese had planned!"
"I believe you, Matteo," Alessandro said, holstering his weapon.
"Come on, Petrushka," he added and started after Michele and Kara.
"Thank you, Niccolo!" Amati breathed. "I promise I'll make it up to you!"
"I'm sure you will," Alessandro called back.
Amati neither heard nor felt the round from Petrushka's pistol enter the base of his skull, plunging his consciousness into eternal blackness.
"Are you really okay?" Kara asked, her previous curt manner towards Michele having evaporated when she'd seen her handler shot.
"Yeah, the armor did its job. But it still felt like I was shot," Michele replied as he slowly and carefully lowered himself into the passenger seat while breathing shallowly to nurse his bruised ribs.
Both fratelli decided that it would be prudent to put some serious distance between themselves and Reggio Calabria. After checking out of the hotel, Alessandro and Petrushka headed due west to Naples, while Michele and Kara drove north to Pescara.
Once safely ensconced in their suite, Kara helped Michele out of his jacket and dress shirt. She then carefully pulled the armor jacket over his head and hissed when he raised his t-shirt and she saw the two purplish welts where the bullet's energy had transferred to the skin.
"That's going to leave a mark," Michele noted as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
"Uh, I think it already has," Kara replied.
"Order me some fettuccine al burro and whatever you want," Michele said as he handed her the menu.
When dinner arrived, they ate it at the table, Kara letting Michele drink most of the wine to help as a sedative.
Once everything had been cleared away, Michele went to the bed and lay down on his back, too tired to undress any farther. Kara sat on the opposite side.
"I'm really sorry. I can't believe how bad I messed up today. If that man had aimed for your head instead of your chest…" She left the rest unsaid because her mind couldn't truly comprehend such a catastrophe.
"It is okay, Kara. No real harm done. Jean is going to blow a gasket, however. Not only did we fail to secure access to the drug trade and how Padania uses it, but now we've lost a valuable contact with Amati and we have to worry about a possible vendetta with one of the 'Ndrangheta cosche. And I'm sorry I made you torture Barse, but I needed information and I needed him to be terrified of you so he'd give it."
"He tried to hurt you," Kara replied, her voice making Michele think that she considered the cammorista had gotten off light.
"When we get back to Rome I'll work extra hard to make sure I'm as good at protecting you as Petrushka was her handler."
"You did fine today, Kara. You kept your head and neutralized the threats first."
"My only thoughts were for you, but my body reacted automatically."
"Well, thank you for protecting me today," Michele said.
"Anytime," she replied with a smile. She pulled off her boots and snuggled up against him.
"Careful of the ribs," Michele said, wincing.
"Sorry."