By Alfisti
That evening, Monty sat cross-legged on the fratello's bed, computer on the duvet in front of her, hooked into her iPhone; one of its apps giving her encrypted access to the internet. Despite operating domestically for once, the Blackers had insisted the SWA maintain its usual network of digital drop-boxes and signals for communicating with them. If anything, inside Italy, that security became more critical with more eyes, more likely to have heard rumours of killer teenagers and children, available to observe proceedings. In their line of work, being linked back to the Agency could be disastrous. Now, as that organisation started to recover from its initial mad rush to mobilise, information was starting to trickle through the labyrinth of message boards, blogs and hidden file dumps.
As soon as she returned from the trattoria, the girl had uploaded the photos of their mark at full resolution and priority flagged, for the SWA's analysts to pick up. They had yet to return with any positive identification yet, so for now she trawled through the other information in the hopes it would throw out something useful.
A coded knock and click of the latch caused her to look up, hand sliding under a pillow to where her PPK was currently concealed, and Jethro slipped through the door. Locking it behind himself he moved across the room to sit down on the bed next to his cyborg, putting one hand on the mattress behind her so as to steady himself and lean in close.
"Our friend is back in his room," he said, keeping his voice low. While 'Dino's' room was at the far end of the building, the walls were thin and it didn't hurt to take an extra precaution. "About time too, I thought I'd never get out of that bathroom."
The floor's shared facilities were located directly next to the Blackers' room, with the door facing down the passage. As Jethro had quickly found, the old-style lock allowed anyone with the patience and a mildly stiff constitution a none-too-shabby view of the whole hall. Since the floor's only other occupant was Dino himself, the fratello had taken it in turns to keep an eye out for his return from town. Now they just needed to know if he was worth pursuing, or if he should be simply left alone and they move on.
Scrolling down another page of blog comments, Monty finally found the posting she had been waiting on, dated five minutes previous. Typing the address for the corresponding drop box, she quickly pulled its file onto her laptop. The packet wasn't large and didn't take long to decrypt, but it was enough. Twisting her computer around slightly so her handler could read it over her shoulder as well, she started to skim what was there.
Their mark's full name was Dino Zenegna, a low ranking agent for the FRF. Little more than a glorified foot solider, he was suspected as having been involved with the separatist movement for around three years, but beyond that seemed to be small enough fish that no one had really bothered to find out more.
Finishing the page, Monty glanced at her handler, who replied with a nod. The man may have been small fry, but just right now, the Agency was likely to grasp onto any and all information sources it could lay its hands on.
Now might just be the time for Dino to find himself in the limelight.
Night time, the warm glow of the village, as the Blackers had first spied from the base of the valley, now blinkered as its inhabitants turned in. From outside the Hotel Maria, Monty heard the rattle of a diesel engine starting, followed by rumbling tyres as her handler edged away so the fratello could rightfully claim, should something go awry, it had not been here.
Giving him a couple of minutes head start, she slipped quietly out of their room and locked the door, depositing the key in one pocket. Gone now were her boldly pattered dress and high boots of the day, simplified back to charcoal toned skivvy and leggings, flat shoes and paperboy cap: what her handler referred to as her "cat burglar" look. Her PPK also again resided in the small of her back, but this time held in place with the aid of a holster and covered by her top.
Slinking down the hall to Dino's room, the cyborg pressed her ear against his door, listening intently. She held the position for thirty seconds then, satisfied, retrieved her picks and quickly had the lock disengaged.
Stowing the leather wallet again she counted to three and eased the door open...
To the girl's sensitive hearing, music suddenly blared as, startled, her target knocked the sealed canal-phones out of his ears. For half a second neither moved, then recognition flooded across the Italian man's face and he dove for the Beretta lying on his bedside table.
Uttering something unpleasant under her breath, Monty lunged forward with a speed only her artificial muscles could manage, sweeping the gun away from her opponent and sending it clattering to the floor. The distraction was enough however and Dino was off his mattress and crashing through the room's window.
Bollocks.
Vaulting the bed the girl was just in time to see her mark hit the pavement a story below, roll and sprint off down the street. Not waiting to give anyone a chance to check on the commotion, she hurled herself after him.
The cyborg was fast, faster than any normal human could hope to match, and was blessed with a natural agility and balance which had made her an excellent traceuse, super-human strength or no. However, despite being crammed into the body of a skinny fourteen year old, she still weighed the same as an adult and on the slippery, cobbled streets simple physics all but negated those advantages.
The man ahead wasn't waiting either, and closing on the switchback which had caused the A5 such trouble, suddenly veered toward the central wall and vaulted over it onto the roadway below.
Monty followed suit, tackling a much higher drop and landing as Dino disappeared down one of the narrow pedestrian stairs between buildings.
That was more like it.
Reaching the top of the stair the SWA agent didn't even bother slowing but hit it at an angle, running out into thin air. Kicking off the far wall for extra thrust she made it to the first landing, absorbing the impact and bunched muscles hurling her down the next flight mid-stride. This time she didn't need the wall and caught her next touchdown with a roll, converting the fall into forward momentum to send her crashing into her target.
Bouncing to a halt just short of the next road, Monty was up with her PPK out and trained on the dazed FRF man, now slumped against a wall.
" I would not move if I were you," stated the girl, slipping into perfect, Agency conditioned Italian.
Looking up at his assailant, and the gun pointed at his forehead, Dino's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes slowly, letting out a sigh as he did so.
"You know, I thought as soon as you arrived that you might be one of the Government's dolls."
"So why not run then and there?"
Opening his eyes again the Italian was silent, then shook his head slowly, "I... I honestly do not know. I told you before that I came here to think... perhaps I was hoping that, if I decided to leave this life behind, it wouldn't come to find me either."
Monty didn't answer that, instead keeping him covered as she pulled out her phone and, engaging its vampire and scrambler apps, said a couple of words quietly before putting it away again. Minutes later, a white Audi sportsback pulled up at the path's entrance and Jethro emerged, carrying a roll of duct tape.
Glancing briefly at her partner, the girl's attention returned to her captive, "Come on, I think I know a few people may like a chat."
By Prof. Voodoo
"Jean, sir...two vehicles approaching" Rico reported, "one van, one motorbike."
The Field Commander did not even look up from the maps he had laid out on the villa's 2nd floor deck. "Nothing to be concerned about. That'll be Hillshire & Alboreto." Rico nodded and went back to her self-assigned post watching the road. It was annoying having her there, hovering over what he was doing, so Croce suggested "Rico, I seriously doubt the Padania is going to come back up here now that it's our base of operations...why don't you go downstairs and meet Triela & Marisa when they come in."
"Yes sir!" the blonde girl chirped. That sounded much better than hanging around with Jean and all his boring maps.
Mr. Alboreto parked his red motorcycle under the deck where Jean stood, while Mr. Hillshire drove the van around back. There the support staff had a temporary mourge set up...essentially a shipping container with generator powered refrigeration. Triela hopped out of the front passenger seat of the van and opened up the back doors, where Marisa waited. "So did you get any bad guys?" Rico asked cheerfully.
"Mission accomplished" reported Triela, patting the three body bags, "give us a hand with these, okay?" With little effort the three cyborgs were able to carry one corpse each...Silvia saw where they were headed and hurried to open the cooler door for them. "Thanks" Marisa said, setting her bag down on the floor next to a sign written in magic marker by Ferro's unmistakable handwriting; ARRIVI NUOVI . "So have you two seen any action?"
"We did!" replied Silvia cheerfully, but then she just stood there smiling without explaining anything else. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Rico elaborated.
"Petra & Mr. Alessandro got pinned down in an old farmhouse, so we went to go take out the bad guys. Jean sent me along too, even though he was too busy to go himself."
"I see" said Triela.
By this time Hillshire & Alboreto walked up. The older man said "We're going to check in with Croce...why don't you two take the opportunity to wash up & take a break. Don't get too comfortable though, we might be headed right back out in a few minutes." Triela looked to her handler, who nodded in agreement.
Rico grabbed the new arrivals by the arm. "Come on...Mr. Darme is cooking American style hamburgers in the kitchen."
"Oh, we just ate" Triela replied with a little laugh.
Puzzled, Silvia asked "You did?"
Marisa laughed too and added "Yeah, long story."
"Weird story if you ask me" opined Triela.
Elio & Victor headed upstairs to where Jean had his maps layed out. "We got the car that the UAV drone spotted" reported Hillshire, "three Padanians, all dead."
"That's the way I like them" muttered Jean grimly. "How long has it been since you've had any rest?"
"About 16 hours I think" answered Alboreto.
Croce sighed and looked at his roster of available fratelli. "I'm going to need both of you for one last thing and then I'll cut you loose for a few hours of rest. Victor; we think there's a small group in these hills near this highway." He pointed out a location on the map. "Grab a TETRA radio set and UMP for Triela and see if you can flush them out. Giuseppe & Henrietta will come along to back you up. He already has copies of the maps."
"Got it" Hillshire replied with a nod.
"Take the van you already have." Jean turned to Elio and continued; "We're tight on vehicles...you have your motorcycle, right?"
Alboreto shook his head and answered "I do, but Mari's helmet got destroyed on that last job. She needs a new one before she can ride with me."
"Fuck..." groaned Jean, snapping his pencil in two. "Okay, okay...I'll get Alpha to drive you down to the ferry dock on Lake Santa Giustina. Keep an eye on things until a Section One team arrives to relive you. It shouldn't be more than a few hours, then get a hotel room...get some rest, we'll send a car for you in the morning."
"We're that low on vehicles?" muttered Elio.
"We all came up in helicopters...nobody has their own car and there's very few Agency vans to go around. I'm tempted to call Blacker in just because he has that big Audi he could be ferrying people around in."
Alboreto chuckled. "I'm sure Monty would absolutely love that."
"You'll find Alpha downstairs in the basement, trying to make sense of some excavations the Padans did. He has keys to one of the Lancia hatchbacks. Oh...and before you leave write down what Marisa's helmet size is. I'll send Nihad into the city tonight to get her a replacement."
"Good luck finding a bike shop open at night."
"I don't care if he has to break a window if it means you two can use your own transportation again" groaned Jean, "this is fucking ridiculous...trying to cover an area this size with only 4 Agency cars."
Elio picked up the broken fragment of Jean's pencil and scratched a number as he spoke aloud "Size; Youth medium or adult small...nothing pink or she'll never stop complaining about it."
"If that's all they have in stock," growled Jean, "she's getting a damn pink one."
