Chapter 22: A taste of Old Chicago.
It was snowing again, Jamie saw in the light of the streetlamps. It was a light, almost invisible snow... the kind that lightly dusts the hair. It would be cold for her, but she shoved it out of her mind as she slipped into her heels and made sure they would not slip off.
"You have everything you need?" Tanya turned around in the driver's seat of Michael's loaner car and glanced over Jamie, finally nodding her approval.
"Yes. I'm worried about Michael. He should be here sending me off."
"He said his part is just as important as yours. He's going to meet up with us at the hotel, so just focus on the moment here and remember what I taught you."
"I'm scared."
"You'll be fine. I believe in you." She flashed a warm smile and Jamie leaned forward in the backseat to wrap her arms around the woman, giving her a friendly hug.
"Thanks. That means a lot to me." Tanya's cell-phone rang once with Michael's call-tone and went silent again.
"It's time."
"Wish me luck."
The door of the small Italian restaurant/club opened and everyone looked up at the late-evening stranger as she closed the door behind her. She made her way to the small bar, her heels clicking on the tile floor, the guitar case in her hand swinging gently with each graceful step she took. The woman looked around casually at the patrons, smiling softly at a pair of families with children on her right and a group of larger men in suits that were seated in a pair of booths to her left.
The bartender returned her smile as she settled the case on a stool beside her and pulled off her overcoat. A whistle went up from one of the booths as the material revealed luscious skin on a body to die for, all wrapped in a white cocktail dress whose length showed as much leg as any on the Vegas strip. The owner of the body settled onto the stool and tossed her blonde hair off of her shoulder.
"What can I get you, Miss?"
"I'll have a soda-pop, please."
The question had been in Italian, but the response was given in the plainest mid-western America English that anyone there had heard.
"Certainly." He was happy to show off his own mastery of the English language and chatted her up as he poured her a Coca-Cola on the rocks. "Just come from a wedding?"
"Wedding?" She gave a confused look as her seductive lips sipped the drink and wrapped around a chunk of ice.
"The white dress."
"Oh, no." She laughed and smiled at him again. "My boss sent me here on business."
"Your boss?" The bartender wiped at a glass and laughed at the ridiculous nature of the answer.
"Yes. You might have heard of him: Antonio Santorini."
The bartender went pale and the woman caught movement in the corner of the room where the suits were.
"And what business do you have here?" His tone was cautious, unsure as to what was happening, but fairly certain he was not going to like it.
"There was a misunderstanding a few weeks back and my employer feels terrible about it. I was told I could find Ricci's men here and to 'entertain them' as a gesture of faith that we can sort the misunderstanding out." She spoke loud enough to be heard in the corner, though not every word. She turned and smiled at the men in the corner who had their full attention focused on her. "Is that them over there?"
"Er...yes."
"Mmmm... I can see it's going to be a long night." She giggled seductively and slipped off of the stool, the long legs carrying her with a grace that angels could envy. She was tall, and the heels made her presence impossible to miss, her eyes glancing over the men in the two booths as her lips caressed the rim of the glass she held.
"Evening, boys. Don Santorini sent me over as a gift of good faith. I trust you'll see that the thoughtfulness is not lost on you."
"Damn."
The men could not help but stare at the virtual goddess before them.
"He sent you to entertain us?"
"That's right."
"And, uh, what kind of entertainment are you good at?" This one needed to wipe the drool from his face.
"Oh! I sing, I dance. I'm especially good with my hands." She draped an arm over the guy who seemed like he was the boss of the others and her other hand used a napkin to wipe some pasta sauce from the corner of his mouth. His free hand slipped around her and traced the curve of her body.
"Is that all?"
"Hmm... Well, we can see where things go from there, I guess. My opening act is fairly family friendly, but I'm afraid the later bits can be a bit too vivid for younger audiences. I guess you'll have to sit this one out, junior." She waved a finger at the youngest of the group, a man who looked to be only twenty, making the others erupt in laughter at his embarrassment.
"You're all-right, Miss." The boss sat her down on his leg and stroked her thigh as the conversation continued on in more excited tones among the men. Another round of drinks was ordered and the girl sipped her coke as she observed the others in the group, getting a read of the capabilities of them, realizing that there was really no reason not to continue.
The fat man laughed and his greasy hands roamed around her body excitedly. It was all she could do to keep smiling and laughing at the jokes being told among the group, the level of relaxation increasing as time went by.
"What's your name, Miss?"
"Anna. I'm from Chicago."
"Really? Tony loves his American girls, huh?"
She laughed. "Yeah, well, you seem to be enjoying yourself now, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah."
"Good. Tonight is a night that we're all going to get something out of, I just know it." She could see his mind was already on pleasure and figured it was time to move on to the next phase. She leaned over and kissed him, the taste of cigarettes, whiskey, and pasta, overwhelmed by the garlic was a revolting combination. "Before things get to be too busy, I have a clause in my contract that says I get to sing a song for you guys."
"Oh?"
"Yeah..." She flashed the disarming smile again and slipped off of his lap. "I'm really good, I think you'll like it."
She quickly retrieved her case from the bar and set it down on the floor near the booths, popping the latches and opening it up.
"What song are you going to sing?"
"It's one from Chicago, my hometown." Her hands dove into the case out of the sight of the men, her body shielding the case from view from behind. The hands moved fast to keep from spoiling the surprise.
Her voice changed to one that was almost robotic, the brilliant-blue eyes changing to cold-hard slits. Only one of the men noticed the change on her face, but he was against the wall in the booth, unable to move fast enough to do anything about it. She had them.
"It's called 'Type-writer'."
There was a loud click and the unmistakable sound of an action being racked, freezing the men in their places with the same thought of feeling like idiots. 'Anna' stood and leveled a full-length Thompson sub-machinegun with a drum magazine at them, pausing only long enough to smile wickedly. "Here we go."
The sound was deafening in the small restaurant, drowning out the sounds of the other patrons screaming as they sought cover under their tables, but she hardly heard through her target fixation, watching as the bullets leapt from the barrel and into the men at the tables. Her senses were so keyed up that she could virtually count the hot, empty casings as they were ejected in a hailstorm to her right, spreading out and rolling everywhere on the floor.
The muzzle swept across the men and they jerked with every bullet that ripped through them, their faces masks of surprise and pain and the ones that missed tore gaping holes in the wall and upholstery, spraying fragments of wood and brick everywhere. Glasses and bottles on the table shattered and added to the mess, the red wine darker than the blood that was suddenly spilling out onto the tablecloth. The men slumped into the seats or onto the floor, their bodies riddled with holes but her orders were to use the whole magazine, and so she continued well after the life had left the bodies, the smile never leaving her face.
Finally the action locked open on the empty magazine, the sudden silence even more overwhelming than the noise had been. A thick, evil haze had formed from the gun's firing, the scent of death hanging in the air. A child's crying shattered the silence and it was quickly muffled by a frightened parent looking to avoid drawing attention, but the sound pulled 'Anna' from her fixation on the carnage she had just unleashed.
The gun fell from her hands into the guitar case and she bent over, pulling a Kimber 1911 pistol from it, and straightened back up, gently tugging the dress back down from where it had ridden up. The legs carried the incarnation of Death over to the booths and the light fell on her face again, one that was devoid of any emotion at all. The hammer of the pistol was thumbed back and the arm stretched out, taking aim at the skull of the twenty year old that had not stopped breathing yet. His eyes blinked and focused on his killer in a desperate search for understanding, of where it had gone wrong. The blank look on her face explained nothing and he could only feel anger at how he had been taken down so young.
"Bit-" His coughed last word was silenced by the forty-five caliber round piercing his skull. She went to each one and fired a single round into their heads to make sure they were finished, the ruthless measure of efficiency and total lack of emotion seared into the minds of those who would survive to tell the tale. The adults cowering under the tables with their children would watch the angel of death slowly release the locked-open slide of the pistol and gently place it into the guitar case alongside the Thompson, lock the case closed, and slowly stand.
The heels clicked like gunshots as she approached the bar again, pulled on her overcoat, and glared at the cowering barkeep, who had been either too stupid or too scared to do anything but stand there and wet his pants as the events had unfolded. The woman's hand went into a pocket of her coat and the barkeep flinched, fearing that she was going to pull out another gun with which she would finish him off.
The hand came out and dropped a hundred-Euro note on the bar, which she weighted down with a glass. When she spoke, it was the emotionless voice that had suddenly appeared before brutally slaying eight men.
"You tell Christobal Ricci that Antonio Santorini will be seeing him soon." She spun and walked to the door, all eyes on her again but certainly in a different light than when she had walked in. She paused at the door after she had opened it, the cold winter air spilling into the room and adding to the chill that was already there. "Oh, and keep the change."
The door closed behind her but no one dared take a breath of relief.
The snow felt good on her face and she paused a moment to relish it, not caring about the sirens in the distance that screamed out for her as they came closer. A few bystanders glanced her way but none of them were close enough to see her face in the darkness. She went to the car and climbed into the back, tossing the blonde hair from her shoulder again.
"Everything okay?"
"Mission accomplished."
"Good." Tanya pulled away and quickly drove into some back streets, making several turns to shake any possible pursuit.
"Any word from Michael?
"Not yet. He's running late, as usual. He'll be fine." Tanya could see the worry on Jamie's face as the lights of the streetlamps flashed across it. "How did it feel?"
"It felt good. They had no idea until it was too late."
"Were you comfortable?"
"Yes. Except the dress kept riding up."
"Short ones are like that, but a little peek of pink only serves your cause, not theirs. It's best to simply push your self-conscience aside and focus on how they perceive you." She made another turn and got onto the highway leading out of Milan.
"I see..." Jamie fell silent as the drive continued on, her eyes occasionally catching Tanya's in the mirror.
"You're incredible, Jamie. Never forget the power that you can have over others: sometimes it's the only thing between life and death. As long as you have surprise, initiative, and foresight on your side, you will rarely lose." Teaching her had been a worthwhile experience to Tanya and she could see how Michael could actually enjoy what he was doing, in spite of the bad moments.
"Michael said that I have to get inside their decision making process."
"That's absolutely true."
"I can feel certain that Ricci will attack Santorini, but I can't really read beyond that. I'm not sure what is going to happen." Jamie watched the dark scenery streak past against the slightly less-dark sky, focusing on the results of tonight.
"It will take weeks for them to settle this down, and by that time, there won't be many of them left. Camorra is as good as tied up for a month." She took an off-ramp and headed towards Saronno, the rendezvous point for the evening being a hotel/spa that Michael had picked out as being nicely inconspicuous.
The staff hardly looked at the pair of debutantes as they checked in and were shown to their room, and Tanya wasted no time slipping into a robe to hit the sauna in. Jamie had pulled off her coat and stared at herself in the mirror, wondering just how she had looked to those men as she was gunning them down. There was a spot of blood on the dress, hardly noticeable at all, but it made her shudder with the sudden chill that went through her.
"What's the matter?"
"I-It's nothing. There's a spot of blood on my dress, probably from when I fired the Kimber into the last guy. I was a little close." She put it aside and turned in the mirror, trying to get an understanding of how heart stopping her body was for others. "Do you think Michael would like me to wear something like this more often?"
"I doubt it. He's just not that kind of guy. Even if it were me, he would probably wish we covered up a bit more. He's always conscious of drawing too much attention. Now hurry up and change so we can hit the spa before he gets here." She tossed a robe at Jamie and sat down on the bed to wait, knowing that Michael was going to be fairly late coming back. He was going to work a lot harder than they had.
Chapter 23: The Other Side
"Thanks for helping me home, Michael. I don't understand how I could have gotten this drunk off of just a few shots."
"It's okay, I know how it is. It's easy to lose a tolerance for the good stuff." Michael supported the blonde as she weakly stumbled up the stairs to her apartment, too drunk, and unknowingly drugged, to understand exactly how dangerous this stranger to was to her.
"I'm just glad I met a real man instead of some pervert." She had a New England accent that was barely noticeable until she had tossed a few drinks, but it was now out in full force, slurred more by the drugs than the booze. "It's hard to find an honest American in Europe anymore. We've got to stick together." She stopped on a landing long enough to get her bearings, then pointed to a hallway on the next one. "There... Down there."
"Okay. Just a little further then." He almost carried her the rest of the way to her door and let her fumble with her keys to get the locks open. The apartment was the only one on the hall that was rented out, making his job so much easier, if not less distasteful, and he had already planned his escape should the need arise.
"Here you go... Just sit down on the couch while I get you some water."
"Thanks." He rested her gently into the couch and watched as she blinked several times to try to clear her vision. The drugs he had slipped her were wicked in their effects and it was only a matter of time before they really kicked in, giving the young woman one of the wildest rides of her life.
He stepped into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, glancing around as he waited patiently, observing everything in the room. He would search every inch of the place for info he could use, then make sure it all looked as if it had never been disturbed.
"MICHAEL!" The scream from the living room came as expected and he rushed in for show, knowing exactly what she was going through. The woman was clutching a blanket and pointing into the corner of the room, a corner that was devoid of anything. "It's staring at me! Make it stop!"
"There's nothing there. It's just the booze."
"NO! It's going to kill me!"
"There is nothing there!" He grabbed her by the arms and shook her, trying to mix her brain up even more.
"Get me out of here... Please?" She kept staring at the corner and the similarity to the way Jamie cried was not lost on him. He hated this kind of work, but it had to be done.
"You're home. You're safe here."
"NO!" She pulled away and struggled to her feet, trying to stagger her way to the door, the only escape. She was dizzy and wheezing, her movements slow and tired. "Have... to get...out..."
Michael was behind her and spun her around, the evil look on his face making her eyes go wide with terror. She had to be hallucinating alongside the real images, making everything she saw more frightening. He grabbed her wrists and threw her down to the floor, the thump rattling the pictures on the walls.
"What... What are... you doing?"
"I'm sorry, I really am, but you have to die. What I have to do to you before that is something that I simply can't atone for. I know what you do for Santorini, so I know you understand the patience and planning involved in something like this. Image is everything, and I need your boss to see what I want him to see."
"You..."
It only took a single punch to knock her out, for which Michael was thankful. He pulled latex gloves from his pocket and began searching the entire place top to bottom.
She was lighter than he thought she would be, and despite being dead weight in the literal sense, he was able to get her into the trunk of her car and on the way to their destination without any sign of being noticed from bystanders.
It was a dirty, filthy way to earn a living, but this was a war he was starting, and people had to die. It's just the way those things work.
As if providence was guiding his actions that night, the lake he had chosen was just starting to freeze over, a thin film starting to form on the surface from the contact with the cold air. Breaking the film now would not cause any appreciable variance in the thickness that formed, and the car would remain hidden quite well in the icy waters until spring.
A gentle push sent it into the dark waters and he waited while the car filled and sank, not chancing that it might remain afloat to be found.
When he was satisfied that it was done, he found the car he had hidden in the trees and drove away, forcing himself to think of something other than the woman named Anna that he had just killed, and what he had just begun.
It was simple, really. The woman named Anna was one of Santorini's hit men, err, women. She liked to dress trashy, seduce men, and had a chirpy personality. The fact that she was American was what led Michael to choose the fate of those men that Jamie attacked, and what would send Christobal Ricci into a fit of rage. The survivors of the attack would tell of a blonde American in a dress, playing the men until she killed them all in a classic American Mob way. It was Santorini's modus operandi to do things with style.
On the unfortunate side, Anna had to go- in the worst way. Her sudden disappearance on the same night would lend credence to her part in the attack, and lay out a massive amount of confusion inside Santorini's organization as he scrambles to find her and why she did it. After the fire and the wasting of some of his heavies, Ricci would certainly be going after him and fast, as the warning that Jamie left with them would be the most concerning part of all. Santorini was not weak by any means, and his organization was able to crush Ricci's if there were ever an all-out war between them. Ricci's only hope was to hit hard and fast, and before Santorini could shift to a condition to withstand the assault. He was vulnerable, but only until he realized what was going on.
Again, that was where Michael's sins of the evening came in. The time it would take Santorini to figure out that Anna had disappeared after taking out the gang would allow Ricci to move his pieces into play and gather some amount of advantage for himself. It would take him about forty-eight hours to do this, and the only possible counter to the staging of Ricci's forces was for Santorini to go on the offensive before then. His only problem was that he could not make a decision that fast. To the best of the agency's knowledge, he did not have enough informants in Ricci's organization, nor on the street, to tell him what exactly was happening, and that lack of intel would require him time to make up for, time he simply did not have.
The net effect of this action was that Ricci would strike a partially defended target, and the defense would crumble before being reinforced and seriously damaging the attacker in turn. Both sides would take casualties, numbers that they simply could not afford in the face of aggression from the other factions in Camorra.
It was the longest shot of Michael's career. It required everything he had set into motion to go perfectly, and so far it was, but the only real weak link that could turn up before blood was further shed was if Anna's car turned up with her body in it.
To that end, Michael had beaten her to a pulp, among many other things. If someone wants to silence someone, as Michael had, then killing the person was easiest. But if she turned up "just dead", as Michael had reasoned, there would be the thought that someone was playing the two factions for sport. No, she had to be hurt before she was killed, the same as if she had been captured by Ricci's people. If she turned up, Santorini would think Ricci had caught up with her and tore her up before disposing of her.
It really did not matter whether he continued to ask why she initiated the action. If Santorini said he did not order it, Ricci would not believe it. If Ricci said he had not killed Anna, Tony would not believe it.
It was a matter of trust between two enemies, and after two unprovoked attacks, Ricci would have had about as much of the "trust" as he could stand.
"You're one really sick piece of work, Michael." The eyes in the rear-view mirror glared back at him. When had he decided to wage war for the agency on this scale? When had he sunk so low that he could consider other lives as expendable as the Euros in his pocket?
One thing was certain in all of this: Karma was a bitch, he had just kicked the karma dispenser in the balls, and it was going to spit out pain and misery like a busted vending machine. Nothing good was going to come of this.
The silence of the drive made his thoughts churn rapidly, shifting from the work to Jamie. Tanya had told him everything of how Jamie had been acting so cold to him, so robotic. She had been upset at how the agency had tried to rein her in with his acquiescence, and had decided to work within her bounds to display her disapproval. The best she could manage was to act like she had started out, not so much to hinder as to upset him. On hearing this, Michael had felt relief, as there was no way that they could have done as good a job as they wanted to if she was able to deceive him in such a way.
She was still Jamie, the Jamie he cared for, and even the agency could not take her away all that easily. Tanya's training was even more important to that effect, as Jamie had to know how to be a woman as much as a killer, both things that Tanya had excelled at.
The tutor had Jamie wrapped only in a bath towel and draped seductively in a chair to await his arrival. She waited until he had set everything down before striking, laying it on thick in her skilled French, making Michael the most uncomfortable man in history as she wrapped her body around his, gently blowing in his ear. It went on for several minutes and he had begun to wonder just where his Jamie had gone when she put a plastic knife to his throat and declared him dead with a smile.
He was impressed to say the least. Jamie had been a completely different woman, and looked entirely comfortable in the role, exactly what he had asked of Tanya, and it had only taken a day.
It was frightening in many ways. Just how much of the Jamie that he saw on a daily basis was the real thing and how much was an act. Was she really the person he had seen that morning on the roadside, or was she the quiet but determined young woman that he had trained?
The thoughts were in his head until he arrived at the hotel and stopped suddenly several doors from their room, the muted sounds of a guitar barely reaching into the hall through the thick walls and door. It was a quiet song with picked rhythms rather than strummed chords, the progression reflecting the mind of the person behind it.
The keycard beeped in the lock and he stepped inside the room, blinking in the inky darkness and feeling a chill from the eeriness of such music coming from a darkened room.
"Shh..." Tanya's voice whispered into his ear as her hand touched his, pulling him through the blackness to the bed, helping him sit down without falling. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light provided by the windows and he could make out Tanya beside him and Jamie in a chair by the window, her body slowly swaying to the music as it left her fingers for the guitar. The notes were not in any real manner of song, but they were a beautiful collage of her thoughts, a collage that continued until she settled down into a soft rhythm, her voice reaching out from deep within her in a seeming rambling way.
Upon being touched gently
I finally noticed how cold this cheek was
Upon awakening in the morning
It was like suddenly noticing the sound of birds for the first time.
I don't know anything yet
What the heart is seeking
I don't know...
It took Michael a while to realize that it was a translated song, the music being a form of the original, but the lyrics fit poorly if sung, so she was speaking them as if she was thinking aloud.
I was looking at nothing but the sky
Since sometimes like this
I let my thoughts fly up right below those clouds
Like living the continuation of a dream
I am unreliable, but love me.
What is the color of tears within the fountain of the heart?
What is the color of sorrow?
The morning light now wrapped the solitude
The moment you opened your eyes and smiled.
I was looking at nothing but the sky
From the window into the distance far away
Take me up right below those clouds.
Both hands overflow with
Beautiful emotions,
I want to dedicate them to you.
Gently touch
Gently touch on this cheek
Gently... Gently...
Tanya had taken his hand in hers and leaned close in the darkness, her head on his shoulder and her breath blowing softly against his neck. He could feel her tears through his shirt and realized that the lyrics had gotten to her, speaking much of what they had shared with each other. Both had been cold inside, but had woken up to find each other amidst the chaos they lived in, their souls slowly being mended by the love they shared.
"Oh, Michael!" Jamie had relaxed out of her trance to suddenly find him holding Tanya in his arms in the way only lovers could. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I didn't want to disturb you." He gave her a warm smile that she returned, apparently understanding and accepting Tanya's place in his life. "That was beautiful."
"Thank you. I wish I could sing the original lyrics, but my Japanese is not so good. I don't think I could do it justice. Besides, people would not be able to understand it if I did."
"It was perfect the way you did it. Thank you." He felt Tanya shift and looked her in the eyes, the tears leaving tracks on her cheeks, which he wiped away. "I love you."
"I love you."
"Should I leave?" Jamie thumbed at the door with the hand that was not holding her guitar, obviously concerned about being in the way.
"No, Jamie. We're just... Caught up in your song."
"Well, then move over. It's very late and I would like to finally get to sleep." She set the guitar in the corner and climbed into the bed, settling in for the night. Michael turned to Tanya for an explanation as they were supposed to have separate rooms.
"Err... They were booked solid and I could only get the one room, sorry."
"This was supposed to be you and me."
"Well, it's not. So you..." She handed him the pillow from the head of the bed. "You get the floor."
"What?"
"You don't expect one of us ladies to sleep there, do you?" She was playing his chivalrous side, something that she could always depend on being his weak spot.
"Well..."
"Good night, Michael." She slipped under the covers and rolled over, leaving him staring agape at her back, wondering whether this was his karma coming back to haunt him already.
In the end, he really could not kick either of the women in his life onto the floor, so he slipped off of the bed and made himself comfortable as best he could without a blanket. "Good night."
Several minutes passed in shadowy silence, the sounds of their breathing barely audible, but it was shattered when Jamie started giggling to herself, making Michael wonder just what was going on above him. Tanya finally sighed and spoke up:
"Michael... We're just messing with you. Get changed into some pj's and get up here. There's plenty of room for you in the middle."
"In the middle?"
"Stop arguing and get moving."
Michael hurriedly dug his silk lounging pants from his bag and changed as the girls mocked him, both sighing contentedly as soon as he had settled in beside them.
"I am the happiest man alive, I think."
Tanya leaned over and kissed him before curling up beside him again.
"Shut up and sleep."
The morning sun brought with it the enticing scent of perfume and shampoo, the things Michael had come to enjoy waking up to since Tanya had come back into his life. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings as his body slowly woke up. Parts of him were not responding and he realized it was his arms. Both of the women had curled up next to him in the night and his arms were wrapped around them, having lost all feeling from the restricted blood flow. He could not move without waking them, though it certainly was not a bad thing to be stuck between them.
"Mmm..." Jamie stirred as Michael flexed his hand beneath her, trying to get the feeling to return to it. She pulled tighter to him and gave a contented sigh, seeming to take on a new level of comfort that she had never had before.
"Ung... What is this thing in my back?" Tanya had rolled over and woken at the feel of the uncomfortable arm beneath her. "Oh..."
"I take it you were happy?"
"Always in your arms. I just wish they weren't so lumpy." She rolled over a bit more to free his arm, and then got comfortable again with her pillow, endeavoring to go back to sleep.
"Hm..."
He turned to watch Jamie as she struggled to wake up, her now-blonde hair falling onto her shoulders where the robe had fallen off, framing her in a curious way in the morning light.
"Good morning, Michael."
"Good morning, Jamie. How did you sleep?"
"Good. I'm hungry." She rolled off of the bed and forced her body to stand, swaying a few times before stumbling towards the bathroom. "Oh, Ferro's coming down the hall so you might want to put some pants on."
"I have pants on."
What she said to his response was lost as the door closed behind her. Tanya sat up and stretched, her nightgown's curves drawing Michael's eyes, a bit of attention that she noticed.
"Forget it, it's too early in the morning." There was a knock at the door that meant that Ferro had arrived. "Besides, the day is starting already."
"I know..."
"I'll get it."
Tanya moved slowly as she struggled to wake up and get to the door, not even bothering to put her robe on over her nightgown before cracking the door a little to look out.
"Yes?"
"I need to speak with Michael."
"You must be Ferro. Michael has told me so much about you. Please, come in. You'll have to excuse us, we just woke up." She waved Ferro to a chair and then sat down on the bed beside Michael, who had decided to be kind to Ferro this time and put a shirt on without her asking.
"Hi. What's up?" Michael rubbed his hand through his hair and decided that he really needed a shower.
"Congratulations. You now have one very serious war within Camorra." She tossed a report on his lap along with the morning paper. "Ricci hit Santorini's smuggling operation at first light this morning. Twelve dead, numerous injured. One of the bodies was Santorini's third in command, so this is certainly going to happen quickly."
"Mission accomplished, I guess."
"We'll see. It has just begun so it could go any direction, but it seems to be sticking to your estimates. Any problems with the operation?"
"No. I doubt I'll be remembered from the club and Jamie's not a problem. She was perfect last night, from what I hear."
Jamie stepped from the bathroom holding a towel to her chest and dug in her bags for a few moments. "Hi, Ferro. I forgot my dye. I'll have to color my hair until this blonde fades."
Michael smiled at her and glanced at the morning paper. "You made the paper, Jamie."
"That's great! I'll read it later."
She ducked back into the bathroom and closed the door, but Ferro seemed disturbed at the girl's demeanor. Michael could read it in her face.
"Different, isn't she?"
"Very. She seems more relaxed."
"Tanya should get all of the credit for that." He took her hand again in his and caught a curious glance from Ferro, as if she were reevaluating him. "She gave Jamie some acting lessons and instructions on how to be confident."
He looked at Tanya to find confusion in her eyes then suddenly realized that everyone had been speaking in Italian, which prevented her from following at all.
"Sorry, Tanya. We were discussing Jamie and how you helped her in her role."
"It's okay. I understand that I really don't have a place in your agency, so it's really not important that I understand everything." She dismissed it as best she could, given that she had just been ignored entirely for several minutes. "Jamie wasn't really a problem, actually, after she stopped acting so indifferent to everything. She's a bright girl, but she just needs focused on a few things at a time to learn them. All I did was show her how to focus past her personal characteristics in order to make assumed ones more vibrant and believable. "
"Well, from the news, I would have to say that she did well. The police and Ricci's men are looking for Anna Grayson, Santorini's hit woman." Ferro stood and stepped to the door, pausing to look back at Tanya and speak in her accented English. "Thank you for your help, Miss Sokolov. Your help in this, and in the information you sent to Michael, has been invaluable to us. I hope the payment in the envelope is sufficient compensation for your efforts. And your silence."
Tanya looked at the thick envelope that had slipped from inside the folded newspaper when it had landed on the bed. From the thickness she had to guess it was a considerable sum in dollars.
"Yes, well, it was largely for Michael's sake, but thank you."
The way Ferro had said the word "silence" tripped a wire in Michael's brain and he watched Ferro's face carefully for any revelation as to what she was thinking, foiled once again by her impassiveness.
"Michael," she spoke in Italian again, "I'll be out in the van. We have to leave as soon as possible to get to the resort. There is a weather front building in that area and the roads might become impassible if we wait."
"Right. I'll get Jamie moving and check out."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Ferro." Tanya smiled warmly, making Ferro pause as she started to step through the door.
"And you."
Michael stared after her, trying to understand the woman's vibe as she had departed. She had not made any further eye contact as she was speaking, and had even turned away as she was speaking the last couple of words, clashing with the attention that she normally gave someone who was speaking. She usually looked at someone in a way that forced one to look her in the eyes, so domineering was her presence.
"Hm." Maybe that was it. Maybe there was a clash between the auras of Tanya and herself that made her feel like she had to back down. It was plausible, but something inside made him think there was more to it than that.
"She's a nice woman, deep down, I think. Sad eyes, though. I wonder what made her like that."
Michael was not surprised by Tanya's observation. In fact he was rather relieved that she had come to the same conclusion as he.
"If you could figure that out, you'd be several steps past most at the agency. No one seems to know except Jean, but he's not talking."
"Hmm..."
The shower became silent and he knew he only had a minute before Jamie came out of the bathroom, so he got his thoughts back on track.
"Tanya, I want you to take that money and catch the next flight back to the states. Make up whatever excuse you need, but go back to the states and don't come back for a long while."
"What? Why would I do that?"
"I have a bad feeling now, and I would feel a lot better if I knew you were safe back at Langley."
"You think they would hurt me?"
"I know that they are paranoid, and that makes them difficult to trust. They have a lot of power, resources, and very defined objectives, but they rely entirely on their secrecy and ability to cover up. Lately I've been wondering just what my own place is with them and have realized that I am as expendable as the next guy, maybe more so, because I am not as committed to their cause as the others. I'm sticking it out because of Jamie, and they know that if I go, she'll go with me."
"You aren't thinking of going, are you?" She could help him, but any escape with a real chance of success would require careful planning. They both knew how to disappear into the night, but staying hidden was much more difficult.
"No. Not now. I can't leave until Jamie can stand on her own without me. She's valuable to them and they will have to use her. If she can function without me, then I stand a chance on my own."
Tanya flinched at his statement, looking away to hide her confusion of his motives. Michael Christiansen could be many things, but he was not one to leave a young woman to the wolves like that. The girl had a place in his heart and he could not abandon her.
Jamie did not hear what was said after that. Her mind was a mix of tangled emotions again, something the medicine was supposed to help, she thought. Michael said he wanted to leave and was making sure she could work alone, to work independently of her handler.
"If she can function without me, then I stand a chance on my own..."
She whispered the words slowly as the water dripped from her hair, down her body, and onto the floor, a pain starting in her heart again, but no tears could form, much as those she had been unable to shed in those days not-so-long ago.
"Damn it."
All of the work she had been putting in for him was only so he could leave her with the agency. Everything, from the dedication she tried to live up to, to the woman she was now able to become on a whim; it was not enough for him.
"Damn you!"
She kicked open the door, startling the pair mid-embrace, her eyes hinting at a fury which her recent conditioning held back.
"You are not leaving me, Michael! You can't leave me alone with the agency. I'd rather die than live there without you!"
The young woman's shouting stunned Michael momentarily, a sign she took as indifference rather than the concern he truly held.
"Jamie-"
"NO! No." Her voice lost the strength she had managed to gather, slipping back into the almost pathetic cry for help that reminded him so much of an abandoned kitten. "You can't. I won't let you leave me. I can't live without you. This thing that I am now... I can only stand it because I'm with you."
"Jamie, I am not leaving you." He slipped from Tanya's arms and went to her, but she held out her arm, keeping him at a distance as she sagged against the wall. Her strength was leaving her so quickly and she knew it could only be the agency's work. She fought to stay up, forcing her legs to obey her past her weakness.
"I heard you. You're going to leave when I can work on my own."
"Jamie, that's not what I said."
" 'If she can function without me, then I stand a chance on my own...' That's what you said to her. If you can get rid of me, you might be able to get away from them." Jamie managed to give him a look of disgust that she must have practiced in the mirror; so unmistakable was the glare in her eye.
"Yes, he said that." Tanya stood and went to Jamie's side, helping to prop her up. Jamie had no ability to confront her as it was taking every ounce of mental fortitude to focus on Michael. "But he said something else that you didn't hear."
"What?"
"He said that he could not leave you with them in any good conscience, so any plans he and I might share for our future must include you as well."
"I- I don't understand. I'm just in the way."
"Jamie, you've been my sole reason for living for almost a year. You've been the one person I know I can trust out of that whole damned agency, the only person who gives a damn about me for who I am rather than what I'm worth. What I asked of Tanya was probably more than I have any right to, especially given what she's had to endure so far for my sake, but I can envision a home having you in it more than I can one without you."
Michael finally made it the last step to Jamie and took her in his arms, holding her tight like she really needed someone to at that moment.
"I'm not going anywhere without you, Jamie, and I need you to know that in your heart, more than anything else."
The girl relaxed into the safety of his arms, her anger and fear evaporating and her strength slowly starting to build again.
"I know, Michael. I know. Sometimes- I just can't get away from the feeling that everyone is going to leave me alone again. My parents, my friends... In spite of their love, I was alone."
"Michael is not that type, Jamie." Tanya left them standing by the wall in order to go to the nightstand and light up a cigarette, her own frustration seeking an outlet. "He was never far from my heart, no matter how angry I was at him for what happened. I was planning on the two of us going back to the states together eventually, but if he wants his sister to live with us... well, I guess I'll have to deal with that to love him... Because I can't live without him anymore either."
There was a silent minute while the thoughts jumped back and forth in their heads, silence that was finally broken by Michael's phone ringing it's distinctive tone.
"It's Ferro, telling me to hurry."
"Then go. I'll stay another day and enjoy the amenities. You have work to do so we can be together eventually."
Michael made sure that Jamie could stand on her own before releasing her to go to Tanya, looking beautiful in her long, unkempt, blonde hair, loosely tied robe, and lit cigarette, as if she were some character out of a romance novel. Jamie took the moment to leave them to themselves, realizing suddenly that she was not wearing anything at all when she burst from the bathroom. She grabbed her clothes and slipped back into the room, dressing as fast as she could despite the lingering effects of the conditioning.
"Tanya. Thank you."
"I know I know." She took a long drag and exhaled slowly, sighing at how hopeless the man she loved was. "I was really hoping we could spend Christmas together. The last time was that Chinese drug factory."
"It was the only Christmas we were able to spend together." He put his hands on her hips and drew close, the only person she would ever allow to get so close to her.
"And New Years. God I miss New Years with you."
He could see she was fighting her own sadness at their impending separation, the cigarette her only solace.
"I know. I promise you, with all of my heart, that we will spend next Christmas together. Alone together, with a warm fire, a case of wine, and the most luxurious blanket I can find. We'll wrap ourselves together in it and not come out until after New Years, if we come out at all."
She closed her eyes to imagine it and smiled at the scene.
"I love you."
"I know you do." She accepted his kiss that had surprised her with her eyes closed, sighing as he wrapped her in his strong arms in what was going to be the last time for a while.
"This is going to be hard to deal with, Michael."
"I know, but we've survived worse."
"Not willingly."
They parted and he dressed quickly, packing up the rest of things to join Jamie's gear by the door. She emerged from the bathroom in her casual attire and picked up both of her guitar cases, allowing Tanya to open the door to the hall for her.
"Tanya, I want to thank you for everything you've done. Some of the things I've said... I didn't mean them. It's just... I love him too, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. You can pay me back by remembering what I've taught you about yourself. No one limits you but yourself."
"Yes, I can see that now. Thank you. Good bye." She bowed slightly in respect and started down the hall.
"It's time, Tanya." He stopped in front of her and was not surprised when she wrapped her arms around him again and her tears dripping onto his shoulder.
"Please, Don't go. Stay here with me."
"I can't." It was hard for him to say to her, but dragging their departure out any longer would hurt them both even more.
Tanya hugged him tightly one last time and then backed away, wiping her eyes.
"I'm sorry for that."
"It's okay. I couldn't love someone who couldn't be selfish at a time like this, especially someone as beautiful and deadly as you." He reached out and brushed her hair from her brilliant blue eyes. "Don't change at all, Tanya. When Valentine's Day rolls around, I want you looking just like that, so I can take you in my arms and whisper something in your ear that will make everything alright again."
"Not now?"
"I haven't figured out what it is I'm going to say yet."
She smiled and laughed softly, his admission lightening things enough for her to let go.
"Go on, Michael Christiansen. The bad guys are waiting."
"The first one gets it double for dragging me away from you."
"I'd expect no less. До свидания, Michael."
"До свидания, Tatyana."
Ferro did not say a word when Michael finally tossed his bags in the van and climbed in the passenger seat, instead waiting until he was buckled in before pulling out of the parking lot. They were on the northbound highway before she finally felt comfortable to break the silence.
"Jean called. Everything is on schedule for the mission. The target will be arriving four days after us for the Section One stakeout there. We make our move at our discretion, but we are probably looking at New Years, maybe the week after. There's no way of telling when the contact will show up to meet with them.
"Great... Three weeks in a hotel room with you."
"I haven't told you the best part yet."
"What's that?" Her tone spoke volumes that made him sure he would not like it.
"We're registered as newly-weds."
"Shit." It was going to be a strain on his nerves in every way. "What about Jamie?"
"She'll have her own room in the suite."
"You've thought of everything, huh?"
"Yes. You get the couch."