Chapter 10: Us and Them
Imperial War Museum, London, September 10th, 2016
It was surprisingly warm in England. Technically it was late summer, but the isles had a reputation of being either foggy or rainy. None of this was the case today. It was so warm they had taken off their coats already while walking to the entrance. The sun was shining brightly. Enrico silently cursed himself for packing it. He had enough to do with the briefcase over his shoulder.
A lot of families were on their way, but the museum itself was calm. Two huge fake cannons greeted the visitors as if to remind them of the power of the so-called British Empire. They just didn't want to admit how much their influence was falling to dust in the course of globalization. Where one power let off, another one stepped in.
"What's so funny?", Lisa asked.
"Nothing," Enrico responded with a smile. "Just thinking." She frowned, but didn't ask. He suppressed a sigh. Not again. Instead of commenting on her behavior, he studied a beautiful fighter aircraft with rounded off wings. The paint was green and there was a big red dot circled with white on each and on the sides. The sign said Mitsubishi A6M Zero. A Japanese aircraft from World War Two. How fitting. "Beautiful, isn't it?", he said, walking around the plane. Lisa watched him, clearly impatient.
"Yeah, absolutely. Enrico, it's ten to three and we don't even know where we have to go."
"I know."
She crossed her arms. "Nice. Then let's go, before we are late."
"We have time." He went along the rows of aircrafts from all around the world, studying each one with the same curiosity. When had he been in a museum outside of Rome the last time? Any museum? Lisa followed him about, silently fuming, but not saying anything.
At two minutes before three, Enrico turned his attention away from the planes. "That way." He waited for her to catch up and they walked along the long, bright hallways. Lisa got a glance at a sign. The painting gallery was at the other end of the building.
"Do you want to be late?" She glared at him. "You can't be serious!"
"If it's important, come five minutes early, if not be five minutes late. We're on their territory, but the Protestants don't make the rules in this." Lisa only rolled her eyes. Why did he have to be so childish now of all times?
They reached the meeting place at three past three. It was a long hallway, marble floor. Their steps sounded like in a tomb. The hallway was empty. Enrico grabbed Lisa's arm after half of the way to keep her from going on. "I think that's it." He had only seen a blurry photograph on the Internet, but this had to be the painting. "Should be, at least." It was dark and depicted two rows of spears in front of a setting sun. Not the most cheery subject.
From afar there were voices of other visitors. Caitlyn Hellsing was nowhere to be seen.
"Maybe she was fed up with waiting for people like you, who are rude on purpose," Lisa jibed.
"It's five past three," Enrico answered, checking his phone again. "She can't be that impatient."
"You never know. What did you find out about her?" He didn't answer. Oh right. He had a feeling he forgot something. He cleared his throat. "Can you hold that?" He handed her his coat and briefcase. She scowled. "I'm not your gofer, okay?"
He gave her a charming smile. "No, you're my wonderful little sister that will get a great reward for her help. How sounds dinner and a nice movie?"
"Acceptable," she sighed. "I'd rather prefer to know what the hell is going on. You never tell me anything!" Before he could answer, there were hasty steps on the other end of the hallway. They both turned to see a young woman, just a bit younger than Lisa, run up the corridor. She wore tight black jeans, a dark blue blouse and sneakers. Not too revealing, but emphasizing her slender shape. A ginger with blue eyes, the long hair in a ponytail. The skin was relatively dark for that combination. Enrico looked her up and down, not able to hide his surprise. Lisa rolled her eyes. Priests or not, men never changed.
"Sorry," the woman panted after stopping a few meters before them. "Did you wait long?"
"Not at all," Enrico replied with his most charming smile. "Though I'm surprised you are alone. At your status, that must be quite dangerous."
She frowned for a moment. "I have my ways."
"Most certainly." It was a damn shame to see a girl like her condemned to hell. She looked much younger and more vulnerable than he had expected.
"What does the Vatican want?", she asked, getting back her breath. "You were rather mysterious."
"No need to be so rash. We haven't even greeted each other."
"Right." She slightly wrinkled her nose when she laughed.
...Why the hell did he note that at all?!
"Caitlyn Hellsing." She stepped forward. He met her there, in front of the giant painting.
"Enrico Maxwell." They shook hands. Hers was slender and cool, but the grip was firm. She looked him straight in the eyes and he wondered what she thought. It almost seemed analyzing and that was a bit scary to be fully honest. She broke the connection by letting go.
"And you?" She looked past him, to Lisa. His sister seemed just as surprised as he was. Bodyguards literally never got any attention, never mind getting asked for their names.
"Uh... Lisa," she answered, unsure what to do. "Lisa Hamilton." She had set down the briefcase and put both coats on top.
"Well then, pleased to meet you both," the young Lady Hellsing said friendly. Enrico and Lisa looked at each other, equally confused. Turning up with the vampires out in the open might not be the best idea, and she was obviously not stupid. But he had expected her to be hostile, at least unfriendly. Unless this was all a trap. Would fit these heathens.
"I didn't know Iscariot had female agents. Considering the Vatican is rather biased towards that," she continued. "You two are pretty close, aren't you?"
Enrico felt his composure stretch, accompanied with a little twitch of his left eye. "I'm not sure if I get what you mean."
She blinked. "Oh. No. Forget it. Just a thought. I like reading people, but maybe I'm overdoing it again." Another laugh, slightly awkward this time. "Back to business. It's good I can finally speak to someone who is in charge of the infamous Section XIII." Another cute smirk. She had her thumbs linked in the belt loops of her jeans. The collar of her blouse was open.
Lisa kicked against his ankle. The pain made Enrico snap into reality again. The heathen woman knew exactly what she was doing. He was getting distracted and she was sounding him.
"I suppose there are a few tales about our work," he said, his voice immediately icy. He needed to get back in control. "Of which most are probably not true."
"Well, I was in Badrick and it was most certainly true that your Father Anderson was a bit overly aggressive," she said, almost perfectly in control. She wasn't intending to start a fight.
"You shouldn't have come to a territory that is not yours then," Enrico replied. His patience was stretching. Now the demon showed her true face. He had been stupid to judge by the first glance. All of a sudden a quote from his Literature class in school came to his mind. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't. A beautiful flower. He had almost fallen for it.
"I don't give a bloody damn about this stupid contract!", she snapped. "I didn't attack first. Anderson did and if he didn't tell you before, he killed two of my men!"
Enrico felt Lisa take his hand. Her grip was firm, warning. She tried to hold him back. It accomplished that he could make one last effort of self-control. A fight in public was the last thing they needed. That was why they were here in the first place.
"Well, what about it?", he asked. "Do you expect me to care about you infernal protestants? If it were not for the Holy Father's direct orders, I wouldn't even bother talking to the likes of you filth!" He made a step forward, giving Lisa no choice than to let go. Caitlyn Hellsing fearlessly faced him in a clear "Go on and try" manner.
"I would not do that."
Lady Hellsing probably flinched just as much as he did. For Enrico, this wasn't so much the vampire itself. She had a Romanian accent and that brought memories back he wanted to bury forever. Memories of cold and pain and darkness. He managed to push them away.
The vampire wore a long red coat and a hat. Enrico's next thought was: Why didn't Anderson tell me it was a woman? Then a very huge black gun was aimed at his head. Enrico took a step back, startled. Lisa had already groped for her weapons, however useless they would be against this opponent.
"Mira, no!", Caitlyn Hellsing commanded, just as shocked. The vampire ignored her. She stepped out of the wall completely, towering over them.
"That's exactly what I had expected from Section XIII," she said. "Always trying to impose their will on everyone. Nothing ever changes. Nothing has changed in Rome for 2000 years."
Enrico made a careful retreat, his eyes fixed on the gun. Such a muzzle suddenly looked a lot bigger when it was directed at your face. He managed to hide his nervousness well, he thought.
"Well, hello," he said casually. "You must be Miss Hellsing's infamous nosferatu. A bit early for you, Alucard."
The eyes behind the orange sunglasses flashed. "I prefer Vladimira, actually." Before she could go on, Caitlyn Hellsing more or less clung to her arm and forced the gun down.
"Bloody hell, stop it, we don't want a fight!", she pleaded more than ordered. "What are you doing here anyway? I said you would not accompany us!"
The vampire smirked. "I didn't. Can't I visit a museum if I want to?"
Caitlyn's jaw literally dropped at this. Enrico thought in a mixture of amusement and worry that she was obviously by far not such a great enemy if she couldn't even control her pets.
"And then he tries to attack you," the vampire growled. "I cannot let this go unpunished." Enrico winced, but before the vampire could even raise the gun, there were heavy steps in the corridor behind them.
No, no, no, no! I told him to wait outside!
He spun, just to see Anderson draw his bayonets. The paladin began walking down the hallway towards them as if this was just the perfect place for a fight, blades glistening.
"Ask o' me and I shall gie thee the heathen for thine inheritance," Anderson boomed. Enrico felt all color leave his face. For a moment he was frozen in place while Anderson drew closer, bayonets in hand and reciting bible verses.
"Anderson, no, wait!" Enrico felt panic rush over him. This was not supposed to happen. This was not what he had planned. This is it. I'm done. Section XIII is done. If this escalates we're being dissolved and I'll end up as a village priest in the Apennin Mountains. Cornelius will get exactly what he wants.
"A' will be settled wi' just a blow. Whit good's Iscariot, or the Vatican, if we let an enemy slip oot o' oor grasp?" Anderson was grinning. He didn't even notice Enrico's desperate commands.
Iscariot's director spun to meet Caitlyn's gaze. "Miss Hellsing, he lost all control! You have to leave-" Enrico was knocked aside. A red coat hit him square in the face and he almost fell. The vampire – Vladimira, what kind of joke was that? - pulled out a second gun, silver, but equally big and stood to face Anderson who already raised his bayonets.
Somebody grabbed his arm. He expected Lisa and was startled to see it was Caitlyn Hellsing.
"We have to stop them!" He looked in her eyes. Determination despite her fear. She was an opponent to be reckoned with. Her hand was firm on his arm, almost burning through the fabric.
They started off at the same time, running the short stretch of the hallway and then blocking the two fighter's way, back to back. Enrico faced Anderson, Caitlyn Vladimira.
Lisa could have killed him. "'Enrico, are you sure it's such a good idea to bring Anderson?' 'Oh, come on, who do you think I am? I have everything under control.'," she mimicked angrily. There was a giggle. She turned to see a dark-haired young boy, about fifteen, sit on a bench, legs crossed, watching the events from the shadows. He noticed that she saw him and greeted her with a nod. Then he stood up and made a polite gesture to a far-away sign that said "Private". Red eyes flashed. He vanished. Lisa looked back to the two fighters and their commanders.
Enrico and Lady Hellsing were desperately trying to talk their subordinates out of this. It could be funny, seeing how huge vampire and paladin looked in comparison to their bosses. One mighty blow could break these tiny humans apart.
"Oh Enrico, this overconfidence will get you killed someday," she whispered, then turned and ran for the door.
"Yes, let us kill, Judas Priest!", the vampire said, aiming her guns at the paladin and grinning wildly. NO!
To Enrico's horror, Anderson followed along. He shoved up his glasses. "Jus' like last time, vampire." He didn't even look at Enrico. It was as if the bishop wasn't there at all. In comparison he was just a fly, unable to do anything if they actually intended to start this. Enrico felt anger cut through the panic. How did Anderson dare to disobey like that? Enrico was the boss. His hard work had brought him there and his orders were better followed double-quick!
"Anderson, stop it!", he commanded. "There is no need for violence!" Caitlyn Hellsing was pleading her vampire to stop. Both were utterly ignored. "Anderson!", he made a last desperate attempt. The bayonets glistened in the light. Anderson and Vladimira made another step towards each other, their commanders locked in the middle. The two humans flinched, meeting in the middle back to back. Caitlyn's ponytail brushed over his neck. Strangely calming not be alone, even if the other one was an enemy.
Ding-dong.
A steady female voice began speaking. "Dear visitors. We regret to inform you that the museum will be closed to the crowds from three fifteen to four pm. We have to ask you to leave immediately. During this time, there will be exclusive tours organized by the St. Luke's foundation, which enables children from orphanages to visit art galleries and museums. Thank you for your understanding."
The complete scene could have very well been marble. There was a low grumbling sound. Enrico was still trying to gather his thoughts, but managed to look for his sister. Lisa was gone to somewhere. God bless her.
The grumbling turned out to be Anderson chuckling. "Vampire?", he said.
"Yes?", came the response.
"Ah've lost interest."
"Yes, this is no atmosphere for fighting."
"Exactly!", Enrico and Caitlyn exclaimed at the same time. Enrico thought his legs might give way out of relief. But of course they didn't. That would be embarrassing.
"Ah'll wait outside," Anderson said, stashing away the bayonets. After a few paces, he stopped again and turned around. The kind smile on his face would have calmed any frightened child. Enrico on the other hand looked like a deer in the headlights of an approaching car.
"This is an excellent museum. Mebbe next time we can bring some o' the kids fae the orphanage," Anderson said.
Enrico was suddenly aware of a single icy drop of sweat rolling over his temple. He forced himself to some kind of smile. "No problem," he promised. Anderson seemed satisfied and turned around.
"Next time Ah'll rip her tae bloody pieces."
Fine with me, but please not here, Enrico thought. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that this had gone without any bloodshed. Miracles did happen after all. Thank God.
"I'm going back to the mansion," the vampire said. "Being up all day makes me sleepy."
"Stay away from Anderson," Caitlyn Hellsing said, sounding defeated. Silence. The vampire had obviously vanished. Enrico hadn't turned yet. The silence was getting awkward and they were still standing like glued together.
He briskly walked over to his briefcase just as Lisa returned. She shot him a cheerful smile. "Thank you. I owe you," he said in a low voice when picking up the briefcase. Then, more official: "Can you keep an eye on Anderson? I think we'll be fine." What kind of mocking glance was that?
When had they talked properly the last time? He suddenly missed that a lot.
"No problem." She also took the coats and headed the way Anderson had gone, nodding Goodbye to Lady Hellsing. When she had disappeared, another awkward silence resided. Enrico forced a smile on his face. "That was probably the worst start possible, eh?"
She smiled as well, a lot more successful than him. That was nice. She was beautiful like that-
What the hell. He needed to clear his head, and soon. Yes, she was good-looking. So what of it? So was the vampire woman. They were enemies. Protestants, damned to hell.
"We both seem to have quite difficult subordinates," she said.
That's one way of saying it. "Now that the violence is out of the room..."
She interrupted. "Speaking of which, we can keep this peaceful, right? The two of us. I admit I was a little preposterous getting so angry, but so were you."
"You didn't seem to be worried," he shot back. There they were going again. So much for keeping it peaceful. But Lady Hellsing just nodded. "Why should I? You wouldn't slap me."
"No," he said slowly. Of course he'd never do that. No matter how much he had wanted to just minutes ago. "How about we continue this conversation in the cafeteria?"
"Sounds lovely." She waited for him to catch up.
They made smalltalk, which was about the last thing he had expected after this. She asked him how he liked Britain and he said it was beautiful (which was true – once the heathens had been purged, it would arise even better from the ruins). They talked about the exhibits and he found out she was obviously a Shakespeare fan. At least he recognized (or thought to recognize) not few of her expressions as such. When asking, she nodded and asked with sparkling eyes which of the plays he read. She seemed to have forgotten who she was talking to completely. Did she even see him as an enemy? She was either silly or too optimistic. Boiled down to the same thing in the end. A dead protestant.
Whichever it was, they soon reached the cafeteria. "I'll get us something," she said and took off.
"Don't you want to ask me what I'd like?" That had more been a rhetorical question, as she was already a good deal away. But she turned and grinned.
"I have an idea. See it as an experiment and tell me if I was right later."
He saw her talk to the clerk and shook his head. This encounter not going how he had expected it to was a vast understatement. Why doesn't she treat me like an enemy?
Enrico sighed and looked around for a table. The cafeteria was almost empty except for a couple sitting in the shadows near the doors. The sun was shining brightly outside, concealing everything but vague shapes. He wouldn't even need a coat.
The terrace was empty. He went outside and set down the briefcase beside the chair. When he opened it, he made the mistake of using the left hand to take some of the files. Pain flared and he cursed. He had forgotten all about it in the last half an hour and that was a mercy. Healing took its time. He had wanted to wear gloves, but it was just too warm. Lady Hellsing could not have missed the bandage by now.
"Hurts bad?" His head shot up so rapidly he almost lost his balance. Caitlyn Hellsing set down two steaming cups. He hadn't heard her coming.
"I'm fine, thank you," he said sternly and put the files on the table. For some reason, they always seemed to be a bit of a shield. The folders literally screamed "secret Vatican info about the Nazis". It had been pretty easy finding them, considering the German eagle and the swastika was on it. Whose idea had that been in the first place?
But Caitlyn Hellsing didn't pay them more attention than a short glance. She shoved the cup over to him. "Tell me if I was right," she demanded.
Enrico picked up the cup and frowned.
"I'm not trying to poison you or anything," she said with a cute laugh. Enrico took a sip. It was still too hot to drink, but tasty. Hot chocolate. He managed to hide his surprise while putting the cup somewhere it wouldn't spill all over the documents.
"How did you know that?" She just smiled. That was bragging, pure and simple. Fine, he would play along. Proud people made mistakes. "Alright, Lady Hellsing. You managed to make me curious. That's what you wanted, right?" No answer but a smile. Bloody hell and what a smile.
Jesus Christ. The question was not what was up with her, but with him.
She watched him closely. "Well, I already said I like reading people. It's some kind of habit. You didn't look like a coffee person."
"I don't have to tell you I don't believe you, right?", he said, crossing his legs. God, his hand hurt like hell. "Fine then. Tell me what you think you know about me." He internally cursed himself for not researching her better. Officially there was nothing more to find. Well, he could have checked on the Vatican's archives. Or the British. But his mind had been on his projects. He was getting closer every day.
Caitlyn Hellsing crossed her legs and watched him for another moment. He suddenly wondered what she saw. "You can guess I looked into you before. There was not an awful lot, I have to admit. So let's stay with my guesses.
First, you're born in Italy, but grew up in Canada.
Second, your first language is Italian. You don't like your accent and are trying, somewhat successfully I have to say, to get rid of it. Either way, you learned English at a young age.
Third, you're working a lot with computers.
Fourth, and maybe most interesting, the girl that was with you. You two are a lot closer than boss and his bodyguard. You've been a team for very long and understand each other blind. You trust her judgment." She made a dramatic little pause. Enrico didn't like how all of this had to sound to an outsider. "She's your sister, obviously."
Enrico could barely keep himself from staring at her open-mouthed. Lady Hellsing couldn't have trouble reading that expression. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"She held you back and you actually responded to it. If she was just a subordinate that wouldn't be. Also, that single glance you exchanged, the only one you needed to know the others' thoughts. I'm normally not assuming anything objectionable of anyone at the first meeting, but even if, that kind of team play goes further. I'd say you grew up together. She got me with the different last name, though. Where does that come from?" He kept silent. She had been playing him all along. He had been an idiot falling for it. Who told her all of this?
If she could actually follow his thoughts somehow, Caitlyn Hellsing didn't comment on it. "Considering she's not Italian, one or either of you is adopted, I'd say," she continued. Enrico wanted to say something to break this spell, and found he couldn't. Certainly she was excited about her deductions. Not exactly professional. So maybe she did figure it out herself?
"As to your language, you use exclusively one area-related choice of words, meaning you lived there for quite a while. That little "Eh?" at the end of your sentence gave you away. That's stereotypical Canadian. British Columbia, right?" He nodded automatically. "Your sister is Canadian as well, so it would be logical to assume you grew up there together. But it's not your first language, because you still have a slight accent that gets stronger when you are under pressure. Like when you talked to Anderson a few minutes ago. Also, it's obvious in the way you're saying 'Iscariot'."
"What's wrong with the way I say Iscariot?", he growled. This was getting ridiculous. She just smiled. Wait.
...Hell, she was right! He did pronounce it Italian, even while speaking English. He had never noticed that before, nor thought about it.
"Are you trying to be some kind of the next Sherlock Holmes, Miss Hellsing?"
"Oh no." She laughed again. "It's just my way of thinking. Making these guesses is really helpful. Though I'm told most people don't want to hear it."
What game are you playing? Why all of this? "Well, I'd like to. Please go on."
"The rest is simple logic. I'm not guessing about reasons, but since you try to eliminate said accent it is obvious you don't like it. About the computer part, you have a habit of tapping on the table that reminded me of typing for some reason. Could have been caused by something else entirely. It was just a wild guess, really."
When had this conversation turned such a strange way? Enrico smiled to hide his discomfort. He had made a mistake underestimating her. "I'm impressed. And this?" He picked up the cup of hot chocolate. It was cooled off now. Tasted awesome, he had to give the Brits that.
"Oh, actually Mira gave me the idea. When I read your letter, she asked why it was smelling of chocolate. The envelope was, or so she claims. I didn't smell anything, but then again, she's a vampire. And W-" She broke off. "Well, I actually just wanted to know if my guess was right."
It was the first time she had broken off to correct herself. Now it was Enrico's turn at guessing what she actually had wanted to say. A name beginning with a W or V. That person had done what?
Simultaneously, Enrico's thoughts wandered back to his office. Of course, the envelope had been lying next to his cup all the time. Only a monster could pick that up and only by chance.
She smiled, suddenly awkward. She was not so much younger than him, he thought. That attitude of hers was childish, but he knew that from the Chaos Girls and Lisa. And she certainly didn't look like a child anymore. No, she was a woman all the way.
Stop it right there, Maxwell!, he commanded himself. She took you by surprise and you're confused and focusing on the first thing you see. She knows that. That's the trick. Gather yourself. No one will ever get to hear about this, he thought, knowing he would have told Lisa before evening.
...Why did she have to be so cute for God's sake?
"We trailed off a lot," Caitlyn Hellsing said. "I always do if nobody stops me. I'm terribly sorry. We didn't come here to discuss you or me."
"I wouldn't say that." Brown's typical words. Just one of all the pathetic traitors, all of them squealing and begging in the face of the Lord's justice. "Your estate was attacked by an army of ghouls, led by one Emily Reese, daughter of Sir Phillip Reese. How is she, by the way?"
She tensed. Perfect. "Good."
"Nice to hear. We know of your situation. All of your men were killed and you are on the brink of destruction." Was that a smile? Enrico didn't like this. He should have the upper hand, but so far only she had held the threads in her hands. "You are still searching for whoever is responsible, right? Millennium."
"That is right. Though we know who they are. Or were." She didn't manage to stun him this time. Old files was what they had, yes. But the Allies had never known even a splinter of what the Vatican knew.
"Ah, really," he said slowly. "This is, so to say, top-secret... But we have some information about Millennium." She raised her gaze from her cup without the anger he had expected. "Want me to tell you? If you're so well-informed you already know, I suppose you don't need it."
"That's the point of this conversation?", she said with an exaggeratedly charming smile. "Let's stop the games. I accept that you have the upper hand in this." So much for his plan to tease her a bit.
"Who says anything about games? It is unheard of us to offer help to any of you infernal protestants-"
She cut him off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course. You wouldn't even be talking to me if you had no direct orders." She sighed and suddenly grinned. "Even though I think we could have a wonderful conversation. You could be a decent bloke, if you would bother forgetting all this stupid hostility." He hesitated. What kind of trick was that? "As I said, I have no interest in a conflict and I don't care about this stupid contract." She took the uppermost folders he had laid out.
He was too flustered to think straight. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted down that she was left-handed. "What contract?"
"The treaty concerning Northern Ireland. That's what this is about, right?"
He called himself an idiot. "Ah. Yes. We figured we would be in debt because of that treaty violation in Badrick."
"So the deal is: You tell us and in return we recognize the Vatican and Great Britain are even," she said, already leafing through the files.
"Yes," he growled. "One last thing. What do you say if you want something from somebody?"
She looked up and smiled at this last desperate, and pretty childish attempt to gain the upper hand again. "You really like displaying dominance, don't you? But you're right. I forgot my manners. Please, Father, no Bishop Maxwell. Please tell me everything you know about Millennium, no matter what."
"Alright, alright," he agreed. She offered him the folder she had taken, but he didn't need any notes. "A lot of Nazis fled the border after the defeat of the Third Reich. They had various names, none of them important to us. During the war, it would have been desertion, after the defeat of Germany it became a mass movement. Most fled to the various South American nations sympathizing with the fatherland. But Millennium had its roots even before the attack on Poland."
It was satisfying finally seeing her surprised. No games anymore, at least not on her conditions.
"The Millennium we know of is both a military unit and a project. They worked throughout the initial stages of the war, gathering capital, document and equipment to be transported to South America. All classified, of course. They were traveling through Europe to do so."
Lady Hellsing looked at the map included in the files. The occupied territory was a dark gray, important stations marked in black, including the dates. Somebody had carefully drawn arrows marking Millennium's way in red pen. Maybe even Brown. That would be pretty funny.
"The leader of Millennium was the Führer's proxy, a certain Maximilian Montana."
"Sounds fake."
"It probably is, but that is all we have on him. He was a lieutenant until 1942, later on only known as 'The Major'."
"What was that in 1943?", she asked, pointing to a little black X near Berlin. "Who are the werewolfs?"
She had an astounding talent for filtering the important out of all the details. "Yes, that was when Millennium's work sped up. They wanted to build a special division and searched for fitting personnel. The choice of words was "people with special talents", I think. We don't know anything specific except for two names: Rita Patrizia Degener and Jolene Krüger." The names seemed to ring a bell. She nodded.
"There were six persons associated with the leadership of Millennium. Max Montana, who was the definitive leader, the two women, and three men only credited as the Doctor, the Captain and Schrödinger." It was like telling a story to a child. Caitlyn Hellsing was an eager listener. So much for the knowledge she had claimed. It was almost scary how cute evil could look.
Jesus Christ, Maxwell, get it together. He sighed, which provoked a curious glance. But she didn't ask. "Schrödinger? Like the physician?"
"That's the name given. Somebody drew a sketch there." Caitlyn flipped the page. It was only a rough drawing, but quite skilled. It showed a boy in the typical Hitler youth uniform. He had fair hair to his ears. Or where the ears should be. His were sticking out on top. Cat ears. In a very neat handwriting whoever had done the report had written "Schrödinger" below it. Enrico had always assumed it was one of the legends surrounding Millennium or somebody had gotten bored. The name was mentioned a few times, mainly as a messenger boy. Enrico doubted he existed or at least not like this. But let Hellsing chase after ghosts.
Instead of asking if he was joking she only nodded. Enrico suddenly doubted his own theory.
Nonsense. If she believes this, she is crazy.
"I'm not going to lie, we don't know anything more about the werewolfs or this Doctor. Not where they come from or who they are. The Captain was a special agent for the Major. And this Doctor was-"
"The genius behind their vampire research," they concluded together. Their eyes met and Caitlyn smiled at his surprise. Then her gaze returned to the documents. She was talking to herself while her fingers traced all the different routes. "They barely escaped during the liberation of Paris. Then Walter and Mira destroyed their research in Warsaw."
Walter? Surely the name she had not wanted to mention earlier. The question was why she wanted to keep him secret. She hadn't noticed her mistake. Enrico smiled. He could always look into this at home. He hadn't bothered checking closer on the attack so far, but maybe it would be helpful after all. This Walter was obviously still alive, though he had to be an old man these days. If he was still a human. Seemed to be quite unlikely by now.
"They went to Italy," Caitlyn Hellsing said. Enrico needed a moment to get back to the point of their conversation. She was still looking at the maps and didn't notice. Phew. He had to be extremely careful from now on, seeing how easy she could read him.
...Or she had been informed by one of Millennium's many spies. They couldn't be sure who was involved after all and he wouldn't be surprised to have the heathens team up.
Was what he normally would have thought.
In reality it didn't make sense and he could not imagine this woman to be teaming with the Nazis.
"Here, to Rome," she said. Well, she could study the documents all she wanted. The information about the measures the former representatives of the Vatican took – some of them written by the late Archbishop Giacomo Maxwell himself - were in his briefcase, safe and sound. She didn't need to know about this.
"You helped them," she said, sounding surprised, which in turn surprised Enrico. These days, the 'rat lines' were (unfortunately) well-known to the public.
Enrico smiled, which he hoped looked mocking. "Is that one of your deductions?"
"You helped those monsters escape. Even though they went against everything you fought for." Her voice was suddenly shaking. Ah look. The moment things are not going like she expected, she's not so tough anymore.
He grinned. "Yes, the Vatican helped them. Considerably." He finished his hot chocolate and leaned back. "Of course, we took care of them now."
She looked up and he became aware that she hadn't been talking to him at all. "Did you?", she murmured. "That's... good, I think. I'm glad."She was a bit like Lisa. The same stubborn ideas and dreamy way.
What the bloody hell are you thinking? She's not at all like Lisa!, he scolded himself.
"What about this?", Caitlyn asked. "Why were they in Romania?" Enrico stood up and leaned over the table to look at the map. He couldn't remember anything about that. But there it was, a dotted red line, marked with '1933'. Her hair smelled of... was that lavender?
"No idea," he admitted. "That must have been before the Vatican became interested in them."
"I see." She leafed through all the documents once again, pausing to read some parts then and now.
"Can I keep those?"
"Not these versions. I made copies." He took a neat folder out of the briefcase and handed it to her, ignoring the new pain searing in his hand. She returned the originals and he briefly checked if it was really all of them. Seemed like it. He packed them and closed the briefcase. So this was it. Not exactly what he had expected. They stood up.
"A quite unusual first encounter," he said, not able to hide a smile she returned. Working with heathens was never a nice thing, but maybe she'd make it worthwhile. Until they took control in Britannica, of course. Aside from that: You couldn't kill all of them. And she was as unorthodox as he had ever seen someone in the leadership of Britannica. Maybe at least she wasn't beyond saving. They shook hands.
"Indeed. I was pleased to make your acquaintance, Bishop Maxwell."
"I agree, Lady Hellsing. Until next time, I presume?"
"Under better signs, I hope." He didn't comment on that. An open lie was nothing he wanted to try after her little demonstration. She was good, he had to give her that, but showing her talents so openly was an amateur mistake. You never showed your hand in the first round.
"One last thing. How are we going to continue?"
"They are located in South America. I will send some of my agents there for gathering information," Enrico said. "I'd say a cooperation will be most profitable for both of our organizations."
Caitlyn smiled. "You make it sound like we could actually bury these stupid hostilities. That sounds great. I will give you a call sometime then, if you don't mind. A letter would take too long."
He ignored the obvious stinger. She just wanted him to let something slip. "Of course, Lady Hellsing."
Caitlyn stayed where she was while he left the cafeteria and returned to the painting gallery. He texted Lisa a quick "Where are you?" she replied to with "At the Zero".
He met her there, examining the old war plane. "How did it go?"
"Where's Anderson?"
"Outside, enjoying the sun."
"You make it sound like there's nothing of that in Italy."
"His words, not mine." She linked arms with him while they walked back to the entrance. The hallways were completely empty now. "Come on, you gotta tell me how it went."
He sighed. How could you describe it? "That," Enrico said eventually, "was maybe the weirdest conversation I ever had in my life." He then recounted everything Caitlyn had said, roughly what he had thought (the bits about how beautiful Caitlyn was he left out, though, for obvious reasons) and how they had concluded.
Lisa was silent for a while. They reached the foyer. "You two have such a crush on each other," she said with a grin.
He felt his cheeks flush and hoped it was with anger. He would have liked to stop, but she didn't let go and pulled him on, keeping them from seeming suspicious. "What the hell are you talking about?", he growled.
"Oh come on, did you see- well, technically no. But I saw how you looked at her. And she at you. You always had a thing for redheads."
"Lisa, you're childish and ridiculous," he snapped.
She laughed. "Oh really? Well I remember you had that crush on Ginny Weasley..."
"I was twelve! Don't warm up old stories. Me having a crush on Caitlyn, Jesus Christ..."
"You on first-name basis already?", she jeered, nudging him. Enrico glared at her, but then they were outside and Anderson was waiting and they couldn't continue this topic, though he would have had to say a lot more.
Yes, Caitlyn Hellsing was attractive and strangely sympathetic.
She was also a heathen, and an enemy, and an evil, manipulative person employing a cute facade. No way he could ever like her. He, the director of Iscariot, having a crush on that woman?
That got to be a bad joke.
Caitlyn sat back down and watched her surroundings. Birds sang, the sun shone. A bright day in late summer. It was lovely. No wonder Walter had been grumpy the whole day.
"What do you think?", she asked.
"The girl seems to have more brain than him. She's calmer. As to that guy? He's a twit. Arrogant and pretty slimy." She could almost hear his grin. "Was ace how you set him up, though."
"I didn't really set him up," she said. "I just wanted to see how he reacts. Pretty much like everyone I confront with such things. He was thinking about other sources I could have used. That's normal."
"The bit about his sister got him," Walter laughed. "I never would have thought. They don't look alike at all."
"Blood doesn't make family," Caitlyn said softly. There was a brief silence. "Besides, he's not slimy. Just a bit arrogant, you're right about that. But he's not a bad person."
"As I said, a twit. Typical Catholic clergy, if you ask me. Wonder who beat him up."
Caitlyn could see Enrico Maxwell walking down the path from the main entrance, around the cannons. He was carrying the coat over one arm, the briefcase over his shoulder. His hand had to hurt awfully by now. Caitlyn still hadn't figured out what had happened. He didn't seem the kind of guy to go on a dangerous mission, where he – as Walter had put it – got beat up and injured his hand like that. Whatever had happened to it.
Lisa walked by his side, Anderson a few paces in front of them. Lisa said something, and Enrico smiled. It was just too obvious how much they loved each other, in a family sort of way.
Caitlyn had to think about a cute picture she had seen. Two kids, a boy and a girl, not older than six. "I love you", said the boy.
"Like grown-ups do?", the girl asked.
"No, for real."
How true. No dangerous missions for him. Except he didn't have a choice. And for her, maybe?
They vanished from Caitlyn's view. She turned around. Walter sat on a chair in the deepest shadow around. He was no more than a shade himself, his red eyes slightly glowing in the twilight.
"Too bad he's an enemy," Caitlyn said.
Walter seemed to raise an eyebrow. "What about him? He was arrogant, he threatened, mocked and insulted you... Of course he is."
Caitlyn smiled and looked at the bright sky. "Oh, I think he was quite charming."