Our Roman Holiday
by rankamateur
Timeline: Summer of 2002
AU
Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
Thanks for the idea and the help rb.
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Lee, Amanda and the kids are going to Rome on the vacation which Lee promised them at the end of "A Brand New Case", an old fanfic of mine. This mentions characters and situations from that story, as well two other old stories of mine. I think this one stands alone.....you don't have to read the other three (unless you're really bored and/or desperate for some SMK fanfic).
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It had been revealed at the most recent meeting of NatSOC (National Security Oversight Committee) that The Agency's Cryptology Dept. had broken several of the basic codes used by various mid-eastern terrorists to communicate within their own group and with other terrorist organizations. These codes are also used by certain Cosa Nostra Families, who supply arms and gather intelligence, for which the terrorists groups pay very well.
When he is informed of this break-through, Harlan Stone, the President of The United States, tells The Agency to offer Lee Stetson the assignment of being the courier who delivers this important information to U.S. security people in Italy.
And so it is Francine who makes the call and asks Lee to take a little time out of his vacation.........
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Francine Desmond Stone, the head of Covert Operations for The Agency, had been on the telephone for a good five minutes already. She was still trying to convince an old friend to do a small favor for her and for an even higher authority.........
"Look, it's not just me. It's not even just me and Amanda. We're taking our kids. I'm not risking my children's lives!" Lee was practically hollering into the phone.
"Take it easy, Lee," Francine said as she pulled the listening end of the device away from her ear. "Look, it's *not* a risk. It's a walk in the park. It's just that the President, *of the United States*, happens to think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread and he wants *you* to carry out this assignment. How can you refuse the President?"
"I don't work for the government anymore," Lee said, anger still evident in his tone.
"Not directly," Francine pointed out cautiously, "but you do depend on a lot of government types to help you out in your business. If you disappoint the *Man* himself in this, you may find that you don't have so many - or any - friends in high *or* low places in the future - know what I mean.....?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean and that's blackmail." He pounded his fist on the desk for emphasis - a gesture which was lost on Francine.
"No, it's reality. Look, Lee, it'll take a few minutes - well, a few minutes out of an evening. An evening spent at a lovely party, which you and Amanda will attend. The U.S. Embassy will provide you with a sitter for the kids. You'll have a great time. You hand over the decipher program and when the party's over - you go home and go on about your vacation. I'm tellin' you it's a piece of cake. What do ya say? What do I tell the President?"
Lee sighed heavily. "I'll have to talk it over with Amanda tonight. I'll call you in the morning."
"When do you leave?"
"Day after tomorrow." Lee idly doodled on the memo pad on his desk. "Around noon. A thirteen and a half hour flight, which I'm not exactly looking forward to."
"Don't blame you. Forty-five hundred miles trapped in a small space with two kids," Francine laughed once again at the image of The Scarecrow as the loving, indulgent father that she knew him to be. "Call me first thing tomorrow. We have some arrangements to make about delivering the material to you."
"You sound pretty sure I'll accept this job."
"Lee, it's your patriotic duty and you and Amanda have always done your patriotic duty. Talk to you tomorrow." With that, Francine hung up the phone and smiled. 'Gotcha, Stetson.'
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It was well after ten o'clock when the twins finally quit stalling and went up to their rooms. Hopefully, to make some small start at getting ready for bed and sleep.
"Boy, are they just a *leetle* bit excited, or what?" Amanda sat down on the couch and took a big sip of tea.
"Yeah, I think you could say that," Lee smiled, but the smile faded quickly. He sat beside his wife and took her free hand into both of his. "ah, Amanda....... I need to talk to you about something, umm, to ask you something."
Amanda put the cup down on the coffee table and turned her full attention to her husband. "Sounds serious. What's the matter? Some problem with national security? Something that's gonna keep us from taking our trip?"
"Amanda, slow down and I'll tell you, OK?"
"OK, "she snapped. "OK," she repeated in a softer tone. "I'm slowing down. Now, go on."
"Francine called this morning. Seems our very satisfied, former client, the President, wants us to do a little favor for him - for the country - for The Agency."
"And....what?" She looked directly into his eyes, trying to read between the lines of his less than reassuring actions and demeanor.
"He wants us, me, to carry some classified material to Rome and turn it over to our people there."
"What kind of classified material? It's dangerous - right? That's why they aren't using a regular courier or just sticking it in a diplomatic pouch and sending it by air........ right?" She bit her lower lip and turned away so Lee couldn't see the tears of disappointment that were beginning to form.
Lee saw the look in her eyes and the tears. He couldn't stand to see her cry. "Hey, look, it's not dangerous. Francine calls it a walk in the park....."
"Then why you?" Amanda cut in. "The Agency has dozens and dozens of couriers."
"Because the President asked, OK? He likes my, err, our work. You should be flattered, not upset."
"Yeah," she sniffled, "well....."
"Yeah, well," he grinned at her. "I know working part time in our business and trying to get ready for this trip and putting up with the kids bouncing off the walls and all, must be a real strain, but it's gonna be fine," he put his arms around her and pulled her close. "We are going to have the time of ours lives. You'll see."
Amanda smiled up at him, and then leaned back against his chest. 'He's probably right,' she thought. 'I'm just overtired, over-wrought and over reacting.'
"Hey," Lee rested his chin lightly on the top of her head.
"What?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
If Amanda had been aware of a conversation that had been held the previous evening in Rome, she would have cancelled the trip then and there.
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Georgio, Claudia DeBarga and her brother Antonio, sat in a booth in the back of the bar.
Georgio had been recounting the bits and pieces of lunchtime chatter he had overheard at the U.S. Embassy, where he was employed as a clerk.
Claudia's red hair and green eyes were in sharp contrast to her brother's dark, almost black, hair and eyes. Georgio Allesandro was average looking, not up to Claudia's usual standards, but he had a good job that paid well and he liked spending his money on her. He was also a consistent source of information on the comings and goings within the American Embassy; something which Antonio and his associates valued very much.
"So," he continued his story, "I didn't hear everything they were saying but I did hear something about *deciphering codes* and some old, retired Agency operative who was coming to Rome with his family. I thought I heard them say *Stetson*, does that help?"
"Yes," Antonio ran his index finger around the rim of his glass, never taking his eyes off his companion. "That is very interesting. These men were military attaches, you say?"
"Right," Georgio answered after taking another swallow of wine. He had always found Antonio's penetrating gaze a bit unnerving. "My friend Lucca told me a while back that he thinks those two are really involved in intelligence, counter-terrorism. He thinks they work with the CIA or maybe even something called *The Agency*, which is even more secret."
Antonio raised his eyebrows at the mention of The Agency. He was vaguely aware of this super-secret element of U.S. intelligence. "I will pass this along to Ruggerio. And you will pay very close attention to anything else that might come up about this agent, this Stetson."
"What about our people?" Claudia asked.
"No," Antonio said firmly, "We will stay in the background. Di Stefano will know how to deal with the Americans. If this does have to do with breaking the codes we have been using, and I believe that it may very well, then something must be done to keep the local authorities from obtaining whatever method the U.S. has developed. Devising new codes could take some time and then distributing them to all our friends in Italy and throughout the mid-east would be a very big job."
"Yes, better to stick to what we have in place - if we can," Claudia observed. "The people who run al Abas do not like, ahh, complications. Nor does our friend Ruggerio."
Her two companions nodded their heads knowingly.
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His first afternoon in Rome, standing by the swimming pool of their hotel, Bill thought, 'Wow, this might not be too bad after all. No essays on the Rise and Fall of Rome, to write... and look at this place!'
Their hotel room, a *suite*, his mother had called it, and then she warned everybody to be careful and keep their shoes off the furniture; was huge and he and his sister each had their own room. He had seen several kids in the lobby and in the hotel's coffee shop that looked to be about his age. Yes, William Matthew Stetson was changing his mind about this vacation.
Then he spotted a pretty young girl sitting by the pool.
Bill was fourteen and looked a bit more mature than that. He was sure that he could pass for sixteen or seventeen....well, fifteen and a half anyway.
The girl was tall and slender, with dark brown eyes and long, brown hair and a lovely smile. Someone he definitely wanted to get to know.
"Hi. My name's Bill." He smiled that same dimpled grin that had worked so well for his father over the years. "I'm visiting here, ahh, Rome, I mean. Are you a tourist too?"
The young woman smiled and gestured for Bill to take the lounge chair next to hers. "My name is Angelina. My father and I are visiting Rome for a few days. We live in Fiorenze , ahh, Florence."
She spoke English with a lovely, soft Italian accent. Billy was quite taken with her.
'Angelina - Angel - she looks like an angel,' he quickly decided. 'Kinda reminds me of Mom or Jenny. No, not my sister. Forget that.'
After ten or fifteen minutes of easy chitchat, Angelina looked straight into Billy's eyes.....
"Why don't you come up to my 'otel room. I'd like you too meet my father and for you to take supper with us. Would you come?" She smiled engagingly. How could a young man refuse?
Just as they started for the outside elevator, Jenny came out of the hotel. She looked around and almost immediately spotted her brother, who seemed to be leaving with a stranger - a girl.
"Hey, Billy," she called across the pool, as she walked quickly towards the couple. "Where're you goin'? It's almost time to eat."
"I'm going to eat - with Angelina and her father. Tell Mom, will ya' please?"
"Hey, you better tell her yourself. In fact you better *ask* before you just take off."
"Jenny," Bill said, not trying to hide his exasperation at his sister's intrusion into his budding social life. "She won't mind. I'll be back in an hour - or so. Right, Angelina?"
"Of course. But if you think you should ask your mother, please - do so. I will wait."
Billy thought he detected a slightly mocking tone in Angelina's voice.
"No, no," he said defensively. "I don't have to ask my mother everything. See you *later*, Jen," he called out to his sister, as he and his new friend resumed their journey to the elevator.
"What room are you gonna be in?" Jenny called after them.
"Numero ten-twenty," Angelina smiled. In a few moments the elevator doors opened and the young couple disappeared.
"Oh pooh." Jenny turned on her heel and headed back towards the lobby.
What Billy didn't know was that the girl's real name was Sofia. She was fifteen years old and a member of her father's terrorist cell in Rome. Ruggerio Di Stefano was well known to the Italian government's anti-terrorist units. What they didn't know was where he was. They thought in Sicily. They were wrong.
Billy and Angelina got off the elevator on the tenth floor and walked down the hall to room 1020. She smiled as she took the key from her small handbag and opened the door. She motioned for Billy to go ahead of her into the slightly darkened room. Her father's henchmen were waiting.
The last thing Billy remembered was a muscular arm wrapping around his upper chest and a cloth soaked in some sickening smelling liquid being pressed against his nose and mouth. The last thing he heard was Angelina's voice saying, "Don't hurt him."
The two men quickly gagged and tied the boy and wrapped him up in a sheet.
"Quick Armando, bring the basket and help me lift him."
They dumped Billy into one of those large laundry baskets on wheels, and made their way down the hall to a service elevator. Reaching the ground floor at the back of the hotel, it was a short distance to a van, disguised as belonging to a local laundry service. Lifting the basket into the back of the vehicle, the two men drove away. Another man, driving one of those motor scooters, which are so popular in the city, waited until Sofia was safely seated behind him. Then he took off in the same direction as the van.
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"Where's your brother, sweetie?" Amanda called out, as Jenny entered the sitting room of their suite.
"He went to dinner with his new girl friend," Jenny responded as she flopped on the lovely, damask sofa.
"Girl friend?" Amanda laughed lightly. "What *girl friend*? We've only been here a few hours."
"He met a girl. They were talkin' down by the pool. He said he was goin' to dinner in her room."
"What? What's her name? What's the room number?" Amanda sat down beside Jenny and took her daughter's hands into hers. Some combination of mother's intuition and agent's instincts produced a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Jenny was used to her mother's ability to fire off questions in rapid order - kind of like a machine gun. "Her name's Angelina, Mom, and she said the room number was ten-twenty."
"Lee," Amanda called loudly enough to wake her husband who was dozing in the bedroom. "Did you hear any of this?"
"Ah, oh boy." Lee got up slowly, shaking his head, still groggy with jet lag. "Hear what? What's goin' on?"
"Billy has gone to dinner with some girl he met down by the pool. According to Jenny, he's gone to room ten-twenty......."
"When?" Lee interrupted. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, running a hand through his hair.
"Only about five minutes ago, Daddy, ten at the most," Jenny supplied.
Just then, the phone rang. "I'll get it." Lee moved quickly to the desk on which the telephone sat. He picked it up in mid-ring.
It was a fairly short conversation. Amanda heard Lee mutter something about seventy-two hours and then repeat the phrase, angrily.
He hung up the phone and walked over to Amanda and put his arms around her. "Somebody has got Billy. They want the cipher program. They'll make a trade. I'll be contacted with instructions as to where the exchange will be made."
Amanda leaned into her husband and moaned. "Oh my gosh."
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Lee held tightly to the handset of the ornate French telephone, as he impatiently drummed the fingers of his right hand on the beautiful, inlaid wood of the small desk. Finally, someone answered the phone. "This is Scarecrow," he used his old codename almost without thinking. "I'm on an Alpha One Priority for President Stone. I need to talk to Fellini!"
Franco Fellini, was the head of the Rome branch of The Agency and the nephew of Lee's old contact Sergio Marconi.
Whatever the person on the other end of the line said - it was the wrong answer. "LOOK," Lee bellowed, don't give me that cover crap. You tell Franco that it's Lee Stetson from DC and that I need to talk to him *NOW*!"
That worked. In a few seconds, which to Lee seemed like an eternity, Signore Fellini came on the line.
"Mr. Stetson, what can I do for you. You know my uncle still talks of you and your beautiful and charming co-worker, who is now, I believe....."
"Please, Franco, skip the small talk. I've got a big problem. I'm calling from my hotel and this line is not secure. I need to meet you ASAP."
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After arranging a meeting place with Lee, Franco called his friend and fellow intelligence operative, Rudolfo D'Amato. Rudolfo was second in command of the anti-terrorist division of Italian Intelligence. One of the duties of his section was to monitor the activities of various families of La Cosa Nostra, particularly when the Sicilians got involved with political terrorists - foreign or domestic.
After recounting to Rudolfo the call he had just received, Franco continued.....
"If a seasoned agent such as Lee Stetson was that upset, it must be something very serious, and it may very well have something to do with a special *item* that he was bringing with him to Rome."
"I will be ready to help in any way I can," D'Amato assured his friend.
Having secured a pledge of assistance from Rudolfo, Franco left for his meeting with Lee.
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Lee stood as he recognized the tall man in the jeans and rugby shirt as Franco Fellini. Franco resembled his uncle, Sergio, who had been Lee and Amanda's contact when they had come to Rome in 1984. That unfortunate business with the coin...... He had the same salt and pepper graying hair; the same sparkling blue eyes. He also had the same reputation within the Agency of being very good at his job.
"Nice outfit. Are you undercover as an American tourist," Lee joked.
"I like to relax and I happen to like American casual clothes," his guest retorted. "Now, what has happened?"
Lee sat back down on the bench and motioned for his fellow operative to join him. The area was a small garden located at the back of the hotel property. Except for a couple of young boys kicking around a soccer ball, they were alone. "I suppose you know that I have the program to decipher the codes used by various terrorist groups - not to mention your local Mafia friends."
"Not *my* friends, my friend," Franco smiled. "Please continue."
"Well," Lee started, clenching and unclenching his fists as he talked, "there has been a breach of security somewhere. Somebody knows I've got the program and they know I'm here with my family. Franco," Lee looked at his companion, his expression reflecting all the pain and fear and anger that he felt, "they've got my boy....they've kidnapped my son, I....." his voice broke and he couldn't go on. The muscle in his jaw tightened alarmingly. Taking a few deep breaths, he finally got control of his emotions and went on. "This guy called. Didn't give a name. He just said he - they - know I have the ciphers and they have my son and they'll trade. I managed to convince him that I don't have the program with me."
"How did you do that?" Franco asked gently.
"Well, I told him that some idiot at the airport x-rayed the case the disk was in and ruined it. So, I'm having a copy sent over, but by international Fed-Ex. No direct government involvement and I'm still the courier. I told him it'll be here in seventy-two hours. Seventy-two hours, that's all the time I've got or," Lee looked at Franco pleadingly, "*we've* got to find the bad guys and rescue my boy."
"We will find them and save your son, my friend. How did they get your boy?"
Lee recounted what Jenny had told them about the girl at the pool and Billy going with her, supposedly to her room to meet and have dinner with her father. Lee and Amanda had gone up to room ten-twenty and picked the lock and looked around, but the room seemed to be unoccupied and showed no signs of a struggle.
'Of course,' Lee thought angrily, 'how much of a struggle could a kid put up against...against who knew how many and what kind of men!'
"You will bring your daughter into the Agency and we can have our artist make a composite drawing - which we can then have shown all over Roma. You are very lucky that your little girl saw this...this..maladetta!"
"Yeah." Lee responded laconically, suddenly emotionally drained. "Look, I'll have Amanda bring Jenny down to your office. I'm gonna get on the phone with DC. Maybe they can come up with some ideas about where this leak came from. Oh, and could you have a team go over that room? As soon as possible, before they rent it out. Maybe there are prints or..or anything that might help."
"Of course. I will send my best forensics investigators," Franco promised. "You have not notified the Police?"
"No, no way," Lee said emphatically. "No police. No publicity."
"Very wise. And I can assure you, my friend, the leak did *not* come from my office."
"I believe you. I have a hunch it came from somewhere inside the US Embassy. They knew we were coming. It was at a party given by the Ambassador where I was to pass the disk, well, it's actually a CD with more than one deciphering program on it, to a colonel in Army Intelligence, Special Anti-Terrorist Branch. He was supposed to get copies to you and to the CIA. I don't know whose bright idea it was to go through the Embassy instead of simply giving the thing to you and letting our Agency people handle it, but if I ever find out - well, they are going to be very sorry," Lee enunciated each word.
"Where is the, ahh, the CD?" Franco asked, casually.
"It's in a safe place," Lee responded, staring down at his hands.
"What are you going to do with it?"
Well, I'm sure as hell not going to that Embassy party tomorrow night!" He looked directly into Franco's eyes. "When I get my son back - safely-, *then* I'll turn it over to Col. Martin."
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Jenny looked around in awed silence. She had never been downstairs in the DC Agency, so seeing the inner workings of the Rome bureau was pretty exciting stuff.
"Com'on honey, you sit down right here and help the computer sketch artist come up with a picture of Angelina." Amanda steered her daughter to a chair beside the terminal where an attractive young woman waited to start the process of creating an image of the girl who had lured her son into a trap.
"Please, Jenny, sit down and we will get started," the technician smiled encouragingly.
Jenny looked up at her mother. "Is this gonna help, Billy, really?"
Amanda saw her own concern reflected in the wide, dark brown eyes of her daughter. "You bet, sweetheart. When we have a photo we can start circulating it, and then we'll find this girl and get her to tell us where your brother is. You just take your time now, and give as much detail as you can remember."
"OK. Well, she had long brown, kinda straight hair. And brown eyes. Her face was, oh yeah, kinda like that. How'd you do that so fast?"
Marcellina, the artist, just smiled. "I have my ways."
"Umm, well that's good, but I think the eyebrows should be a little thicker - not a lot - just a little. And the nose should be a little longer. Yeah, that's very good."
After a few more adjustments, Jenny surveyed the sketch critically. "Yup. That's it." She looked up at her mother. "That's really her."
"Good. We'll get copies made and get them shown all over the city." Amanda smiled encouragingly at her daughter - as much for her own benefit as for Jenny's.
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With the picture of Angelina in his hands, Franco called Rudolfo again. The two Italians, both being fathers themselves and both being eager to help the Stetsons recover their son in whatever way they could, agreed to see to it that within a few hours, this photo would be in the hands of every law enforcement officer in Rome.
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It was mid afternoon the next day when Rudolfo received a call from an old friend in the Carabinieri. One of his men, on a whim, had shown the girl's picture to the principal of his daughter's school.
Paydirt!
They now had a name and an address.
Rudolfo's division had been investigating a connection between a local family of La Cosa Nostra and various terrorist groups, in the mid-east and in Italy, including one headed by Ruggerio Di Stefano. D'Amato knew there were arms sales and intelligence gathering, among other illegal activities. Rudolfo was also aware that an Italian national working at the American Embassy, one Georgio Allesandro, has been passing interesting bits of information, gossip, whatever came his way, to his girlfriend, Claudia DeBarga, whose brother, Antonio, was involved with that same Cosa Nostra group and probably with Di Stefano's organization.
Rudolfo called to inform Franco of this very encouraging development. It was decided that two men under Rudolfo's command would check out the address today and then stake out the school, starting the following morning. Franco suggested that they wait until tomorrow before telling Lee anything. No point getting his hopes up just yet.......
The address on file at the school turned out to be phony, but the next morning Sofia Di Stefano showed up for classes. She was taken to the nearest police station, and then transferred to the custody of the Agency.
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Amanda took a deep breath and walked into the starkly furnished, brightly lit interrogation room, closing the door behind her. "Angelina, I'm Amanda Stetson. I'm Billy's mother."
The girl looked up briefly, just long enough for Amanda to see the fear in her eyes, then turned her head away.
"I imagine you're scared. I *know* my son is. He's just fourteen and he pretends to be big and tough, but I know he's got to be afraid........... bein' taken by strangers and held captive.... and in a foreign country. He won't understand what they're saying. He's......." Amanda's voice trailed off as she tried to hold onto the little bit of composure she had left and choke back the tears that were beginning to blur her vision.
Lee watched through the two-way mirror. He could see that Amanda was about to lose control. He wanted to burst into the room, grab that girl and shake the truth out of her. But instead, he clenched his fists and waited. He knew better than anyone his wife's inner strength. He also knew her ability to get through to people. She would know how to reach this Angelina ....... or Sofia, this terrorist's daughter, and she would get her to tell where their son was being held. He could see that Amanda had said something else to the girl. Then she held out her arms and Angelina got up and took the few steps across the room and into Amanda's embrace. They stood that way, just holding each other for a few moments. Then Angelina returned to the table, pulled the pad of paper and pen towards her and began to write.
In a few minutes, Amanda came out of the room, wiping tears from her eyes. "Poor thing. Her mother's dead and she's really scared to death of her father. Here," she held out a piece of paper. "This is where they're holding Billy." Then she fell into Lee's arms and wept quietly.
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The door to the room opened and the same two men came in. One was tall and well muscled, kind of old - maybe in his thirties, Billy thought. The other man was short and rather heavy-set and balding. He was really old, probably as old as his dad, although, Billy observed, his father had all his ownhair and kept himself in pretty good physical condition.
They had brought the same kind of food. A small bowl of vegetable soup, a plate with some sort of pasta in a tomato sauce and a piece of rather stale bread, which did soften up when he soaked it in the sauce. 'Oh well,' Billy sighed, 'no milk, no meat but it's better than starvin' I guess.'
He had been in this small, dingy room for what seemed liked days and days. The cot was uncomfortable. The chair was hard. There was no TV or radio. No bathroom either. Just a bucket and a sink with only cold water. It was not the kind of thing his mother would approve of. All in all, it was worse than camping out. Much worse.
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It was one of those countless, narrow little streets of Rome, lined with what were probably described as tenements when Napoleon's army came to town...... dirt and kids and noise....... and in the midst of all the apparent squalor, a beautiful Renaissance-era marble fountain, probably made by some long forgotten student of Maestro Bernini, or one of his successors; its waters filled with orange peels, torn pieces of paper and other, even less attractive bits of debris.
Lee and Amanda walked slowly down the street, which Amanda thought looked more like an alley, holding hands and trying to look like a couple of tourists who were maybe just a little lost.
"I feel like I should be singing Que Sera,Sera," Amanda said in a trembling voice.
"What?" Lee looked down at her quizzically.
"You know, like Doris Day in that movie *The Man Who Knew Too Much*, where she and Jimmy Stewart were looking for their little boy who'd been kidnapped."
"I must've missed that one." Lee smiled indulgently at his wife's thought processes. Not to say that those same, seemingly convoluted thought processes hadn't saved his backside on more than one occasion.
"Didn't you ever watch TV before we were married?"
"Sports, dear, I watched mostly sports, not old movies."
"Well, maybe you should've watched this one. It might have given you some ideas."
"Hey, Angelina said they had Billy in number twelve, in an apartment upstairs in the back. In a few minutes, this street's gonna be full of agents and cops - good guys. We're gonna have our boy back in maybe half an hour tops. OK?" He squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled more broadly.
"OK," she answered, squeezing his hand in return. "Half an hour - tops," she repeated.
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Several members of D'Amato's anti-terrorist squad had made their way to the roof of the building next door and from there to the roof of number Twelve. Their mission was to repel the short way down the outside of the building and then swing in through the windows of the apartment where Billy was being held. This was to be timed to coincide with the main group crashing in through the front door. Each group had smoke bombs and flash-bang devices. The object was to create as much noise and confusion as possible and to overwhelm and disarm the men in the apartment. Surveillance teams had estimated that there were six men inside, probably heavily armed. But the order had been given - there was to be as little shooting as possible. Their objective was to save the life of an American boy, whose father was a former agent - one of their own.
Lee wanted to be part of the main assault group but D'Amato, helped by some pleading looks from Amanda, had managed to convince him that his lack of objectivity could endanger not only himself but other members of the team. It might even put Billy's life at risk.
Lee grudgingly agreed to wait with Amanda.
The operation went off pretty much as planned. Two of the terrorists and one of the team members received minor flesh wounds.
Billy was taken, uninjured and not too much the worse for wear, downstairs and into the eager embrace of his parents. "Boy!" He recounted excitedly the noise and smoke and gunfire and........
"Sweetheart, are your sure you're OK?" His mother asked for the fourth or fifth time, looking him over from head to toe.
"Mom, I'm fine. I'm hungry is all."
Lee smiled and relaxed for the first time in days. Billy was all right. More than all right. He seemed to have inherited his mother's ability to bounce back from the most harrowing situations. "He's fine, honey." Lee put one arm around Amanda and the other arm around his son. "Let's go back to the Agency and pick up Jenny and then I'm takin' you all out to dinner. How does fettucine at Alfredo's sound?"
"Great," Amanda said, as they started for their rental car.
"Wait a minute," Billy stopped and looked at Lee. "Is *fettacine* some kind of pasta? Couldn't we have hamburgers? I'd really *love* a hamburger!"
"Oh com'on Billy," his mother smiled broadly. "When in Rome, ya know."
"Mom..."
"What, sweetie?"
"Don't call me *Billy*. OK?"
"I forgot."
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TAG
After a week of sight-seeing in the not always unobtrusive company of U.S. military personnel - which had been ordered by the President himself - the Stetson family was more than ready to bid farewell to the Eternal City.
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"Amanda, if you want to make a stop at the Trevi Fountain and throw in some more coins - you better hurry up."
"Lee......"
"What?" He looked at his wife's serious expression.
"Let's skip Trevi. After all that's happened, I don't think I could handle another trip to Rome."
"I think you're right. Kids," Lee called into the adjoining room, "finish packing and let's get started for the airport. It's a long flight home."
"I'm ready!" Billy called out. "Boy, I can't wait to get home and tell my friends.............."
"Young man, you will NOT tell your friends anything. It's *Need To Know* and they don't need to know. Got it?"
"Yes, Dad. I got it."
"Told ya," Jenny smirked, then ducked as the pillow thrown by her brother came sailing at her head.
end
by rankamateur
Timeline: Summer of 2002
AU
Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
Thanks for the idea and the help rb.
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Lee, Amanda and the kids are going to Rome on the vacation which Lee promised them at the end of "A Brand New Case", an old fanfic of mine. This mentions characters and situations from that story, as well two other old stories of mine. I think this one stands alone.....you don't have to read the other three (unless you're really bored and/or desperate for some SMK fanfic).
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It had been revealed at the most recent meeting of NatSOC (National Security Oversight Committee) that The Agency's Cryptology Dept. had broken several of the basic codes used by various mid-eastern terrorists to communicate within their own group and with other terrorist organizations. These codes are also used by certain Cosa Nostra Families, who supply arms and gather intelligence, for which the terrorists groups pay very well.
When he is informed of this break-through, Harlan Stone, the President of The United States, tells The Agency to offer Lee Stetson the assignment of being the courier who delivers this important information to U.S. security people in Italy.
And so it is Francine who makes the call and asks Lee to take a little time out of his vacation.........
-------------
Francine Desmond Stone, the head of Covert Operations for The Agency, had been on the telephone for a good five minutes already. She was still trying to convince an old friend to do a small favor for her and for an even higher authority.........
"Look, it's not just me. It's not even just me and Amanda. We're taking our kids. I'm not risking my children's lives!" Lee was practically hollering into the phone.
"Take it easy, Lee," Francine said as she pulled the listening end of the device away from her ear. "Look, it's *not* a risk. It's a walk in the park. It's just that the President, *of the United States*, happens to think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread and he wants *you* to carry out this assignment. How can you refuse the President?"
"I don't work for the government anymore," Lee said, anger still evident in his tone.
"Not directly," Francine pointed out cautiously, "but you do depend on a lot of government types to help you out in your business. If you disappoint the *Man* himself in this, you may find that you don't have so many - or any - friends in high *or* low places in the future - know what I mean.....?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean and that's blackmail." He pounded his fist on the desk for emphasis - a gesture which was lost on Francine.
"No, it's reality. Look, Lee, it'll take a few minutes - well, a few minutes out of an evening. An evening spent at a lovely party, which you and Amanda will attend. The U.S. Embassy will provide you with a sitter for the kids. You'll have a great time. You hand over the decipher program and when the party's over - you go home and go on about your vacation. I'm tellin' you it's a piece of cake. What do ya say? What do I tell the President?"
Lee sighed heavily. "I'll have to talk it over with Amanda tonight. I'll call you in the morning."
"When do you leave?"
"Day after tomorrow." Lee idly doodled on the memo pad on his desk. "Around noon. A thirteen and a half hour flight, which I'm not exactly looking forward to."
"Don't blame you. Forty-five hundred miles trapped in a small space with two kids," Francine laughed once again at the image of The Scarecrow as the loving, indulgent father that she knew him to be. "Call me first thing tomorrow. We have some arrangements to make about delivering the material to you."
"You sound pretty sure I'll accept this job."
"Lee, it's your patriotic duty and you and Amanda have always done your patriotic duty. Talk to you tomorrow." With that, Francine hung up the phone and smiled. 'Gotcha, Stetson.'
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It was well after ten o'clock when the twins finally quit stalling and went up to their rooms. Hopefully, to make some small start at getting ready for bed and sleep.
"Boy, are they just a *leetle* bit excited, or what?" Amanda sat down on the couch and took a big sip of tea.
"Yeah, I think you could say that," Lee smiled, but the smile faded quickly. He sat beside his wife and took her free hand into both of his. "ah, Amanda....... I need to talk to you about something, umm, to ask you something."
Amanda put the cup down on the coffee table and turned her full attention to her husband. "Sounds serious. What's the matter? Some problem with national security? Something that's gonna keep us from taking our trip?"
"Amanda, slow down and I'll tell you, OK?"
"OK, "she snapped. "OK," she repeated in a softer tone. "I'm slowing down. Now, go on."
"Francine called this morning. Seems our very satisfied, former client, the President, wants us to do a little favor for him - for the country - for The Agency."
"And....what?" She looked directly into his eyes, trying to read between the lines of his less than reassuring actions and demeanor.
"He wants us, me, to carry some classified material to Rome and turn it over to our people there."
"What kind of classified material? It's dangerous - right? That's why they aren't using a regular courier or just sticking it in a diplomatic pouch and sending it by air........ right?" She bit her lower lip and turned away so Lee couldn't see the tears of disappointment that were beginning to form.
Lee saw the look in her eyes and the tears. He couldn't stand to see her cry. "Hey, look, it's not dangerous. Francine calls it a walk in the park....."
"Then why you?" Amanda cut in. "The Agency has dozens and dozens of couriers."
"Because the President asked, OK? He likes my, err, our work. You should be flattered, not upset."
"Yeah," she sniffled, "well....."
"Yeah, well," he grinned at her. "I know working part time in our business and trying to get ready for this trip and putting up with the kids bouncing off the walls and all, must be a real strain, but it's gonna be fine," he put his arms around her and pulled her close. "We are going to have the time of ours lives. You'll see."
Amanda smiled up at him, and then leaned back against his chest. 'He's probably right,' she thought. 'I'm just overtired, over-wrought and over reacting.'
"Hey," Lee rested his chin lightly on the top of her head.
"What?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
If Amanda had been aware of a conversation that had been held the previous evening in Rome, she would have cancelled the trip then and there.
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Georgio, Claudia DeBarga and her brother Antonio, sat in a booth in the back of the bar.
Georgio had been recounting the bits and pieces of lunchtime chatter he had overheard at the U.S. Embassy, where he was employed as a clerk.
Claudia's red hair and green eyes were in sharp contrast to her brother's dark, almost black, hair and eyes. Georgio Allesandro was average looking, not up to Claudia's usual standards, but he had a good job that paid well and he liked spending his money on her. He was also a consistent source of information on the comings and goings within the American Embassy; something which Antonio and his associates valued very much.
"So," he continued his story, "I didn't hear everything they were saying but I did hear something about *deciphering codes* and some old, retired Agency operative who was coming to Rome with his family. I thought I heard them say *Stetson*, does that help?"
"Yes," Antonio ran his index finger around the rim of his glass, never taking his eyes off his companion. "That is very interesting. These men were military attaches, you say?"
"Right," Georgio answered after taking another swallow of wine. He had always found Antonio's penetrating gaze a bit unnerving. "My friend Lucca told me a while back that he thinks those two are really involved in intelligence, counter-terrorism. He thinks they work with the CIA or maybe even something called *The Agency*, which is even more secret."
Antonio raised his eyebrows at the mention of The Agency. He was vaguely aware of this super-secret element of U.S. intelligence. "I will pass this along to Ruggerio. And you will pay very close attention to anything else that might come up about this agent, this Stetson."
"What about our people?" Claudia asked.
"No," Antonio said firmly, "We will stay in the background. Di Stefano will know how to deal with the Americans. If this does have to do with breaking the codes we have been using, and I believe that it may very well, then something must be done to keep the local authorities from obtaining whatever method the U.S. has developed. Devising new codes could take some time and then distributing them to all our friends in Italy and throughout the mid-east would be a very big job."
"Yes, better to stick to what we have in place - if we can," Claudia observed. "The people who run al Abas do not like, ahh, complications. Nor does our friend Ruggerio."
Her two companions nodded their heads knowingly.
---------------------
His first afternoon in Rome, standing by the swimming pool of their hotel, Bill thought, 'Wow, this might not be too bad after all. No essays on the Rise and Fall of Rome, to write... and look at this place!'
Their hotel room, a *suite*, his mother had called it, and then she warned everybody to be careful and keep their shoes off the furniture; was huge and he and his sister each had their own room. He had seen several kids in the lobby and in the hotel's coffee shop that looked to be about his age. Yes, William Matthew Stetson was changing his mind about this vacation.
Then he spotted a pretty young girl sitting by the pool.
Bill was fourteen and looked a bit more mature than that. He was sure that he could pass for sixteen or seventeen....well, fifteen and a half anyway.
The girl was tall and slender, with dark brown eyes and long, brown hair and a lovely smile. Someone he definitely wanted to get to know.
"Hi. My name's Bill." He smiled that same dimpled grin that had worked so well for his father over the years. "I'm visiting here, ahh, Rome, I mean. Are you a tourist too?"
The young woman smiled and gestured for Bill to take the lounge chair next to hers. "My name is Angelina. My father and I are visiting Rome for a few days. We live in Fiorenze , ahh, Florence."
She spoke English with a lovely, soft Italian accent. Billy was quite taken with her.
'Angelina - Angel - she looks like an angel,' he quickly decided. 'Kinda reminds me of Mom or Jenny. No, not my sister. Forget that.'
After ten or fifteen minutes of easy chitchat, Angelina looked straight into Billy's eyes.....
"Why don't you come up to my 'otel room. I'd like you too meet my father and for you to take supper with us. Would you come?" She smiled engagingly. How could a young man refuse?
Just as they started for the outside elevator, Jenny came out of the hotel. She looked around and almost immediately spotted her brother, who seemed to be leaving with a stranger - a girl.
"Hey, Billy," she called across the pool, as she walked quickly towards the couple. "Where're you goin'? It's almost time to eat."
"I'm going to eat - with Angelina and her father. Tell Mom, will ya' please?"
"Hey, you better tell her yourself. In fact you better *ask* before you just take off."
"Jenny," Bill said, not trying to hide his exasperation at his sister's intrusion into his budding social life. "She won't mind. I'll be back in an hour - or so. Right, Angelina?"
"Of course. But if you think you should ask your mother, please - do so. I will wait."
Billy thought he detected a slightly mocking tone in Angelina's voice.
"No, no," he said defensively. "I don't have to ask my mother everything. See you *later*, Jen," he called out to his sister, as he and his new friend resumed their journey to the elevator.
"What room are you gonna be in?" Jenny called after them.
"Numero ten-twenty," Angelina smiled. In a few moments the elevator doors opened and the young couple disappeared.
"Oh pooh." Jenny turned on her heel and headed back towards the lobby.
What Billy didn't know was that the girl's real name was Sofia. She was fifteen years old and a member of her father's terrorist cell in Rome. Ruggerio Di Stefano was well known to the Italian government's anti-terrorist units. What they didn't know was where he was. They thought in Sicily. They were wrong.
Billy and Angelina got off the elevator on the tenth floor and walked down the hall to room 1020. She smiled as she took the key from her small handbag and opened the door. She motioned for Billy to go ahead of her into the slightly darkened room. Her father's henchmen were waiting.
The last thing Billy remembered was a muscular arm wrapping around his upper chest and a cloth soaked in some sickening smelling liquid being pressed against his nose and mouth. The last thing he heard was Angelina's voice saying, "Don't hurt him."
The two men quickly gagged and tied the boy and wrapped him up in a sheet.
"Quick Armando, bring the basket and help me lift him."
They dumped Billy into one of those large laundry baskets on wheels, and made their way down the hall to a service elevator. Reaching the ground floor at the back of the hotel, it was a short distance to a van, disguised as belonging to a local laundry service. Lifting the basket into the back of the vehicle, the two men drove away. Another man, driving one of those motor scooters, which are so popular in the city, waited until Sofia was safely seated behind him. Then he took off in the same direction as the van.
---------------
"Where's your brother, sweetie?" Amanda called out, as Jenny entered the sitting room of their suite.
"He went to dinner with his new girl friend," Jenny responded as she flopped on the lovely, damask sofa.
"Girl friend?" Amanda laughed lightly. "What *girl friend*? We've only been here a few hours."
"He met a girl. They were talkin' down by the pool. He said he was goin' to dinner in her room."
"What? What's her name? What's the room number?" Amanda sat down beside Jenny and took her daughter's hands into hers. Some combination of mother's intuition and agent's instincts produced a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Jenny was used to her mother's ability to fire off questions in rapid order - kind of like a machine gun. "Her name's Angelina, Mom, and she said the room number was ten-twenty."
"Lee," Amanda called loudly enough to wake her husband who was dozing in the bedroom. "Did you hear any of this?"
"Ah, oh boy." Lee got up slowly, shaking his head, still groggy with jet lag. "Hear what? What's goin' on?"
"Billy has gone to dinner with some girl he met down by the pool. According to Jenny, he's gone to room ten-twenty......."
"When?" Lee interrupted. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, running a hand through his hair.
"Only about five minutes ago, Daddy, ten at the most," Jenny supplied.
Just then, the phone rang. "I'll get it." Lee moved quickly to the desk on which the telephone sat. He picked it up in mid-ring.
It was a fairly short conversation. Amanda heard Lee mutter something about seventy-two hours and then repeat the phrase, angrily.
He hung up the phone and walked over to Amanda and put his arms around her. "Somebody has got Billy. They want the cipher program. They'll make a trade. I'll be contacted with instructions as to where the exchange will be made."
Amanda leaned into her husband and moaned. "Oh my gosh."
---------------------------------
Lee held tightly to the handset of the ornate French telephone, as he impatiently drummed the fingers of his right hand on the beautiful, inlaid wood of the small desk. Finally, someone answered the phone. "This is Scarecrow," he used his old codename almost without thinking. "I'm on an Alpha One Priority for President Stone. I need to talk to Fellini!"
Franco Fellini, was the head of the Rome branch of The Agency and the nephew of Lee's old contact Sergio Marconi.
Whatever the person on the other end of the line said - it was the wrong answer. "LOOK," Lee bellowed, don't give me that cover crap. You tell Franco that it's Lee Stetson from DC and that I need to talk to him *NOW*!"
That worked. In a few seconds, which to Lee seemed like an eternity, Signore Fellini came on the line.
"Mr. Stetson, what can I do for you. You know my uncle still talks of you and your beautiful and charming co-worker, who is now, I believe....."
"Please, Franco, skip the small talk. I've got a big problem. I'm calling from my hotel and this line is not secure. I need to meet you ASAP."
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After arranging a meeting place with Lee, Franco called his friend and fellow intelligence operative, Rudolfo D'Amato. Rudolfo was second in command of the anti-terrorist division of Italian Intelligence. One of the duties of his section was to monitor the activities of various families of La Cosa Nostra, particularly when the Sicilians got involved with political terrorists - foreign or domestic.
After recounting to Rudolfo the call he had just received, Franco continued.....
"If a seasoned agent such as Lee Stetson was that upset, it must be something very serious, and it may very well have something to do with a special *item* that he was bringing with him to Rome."
"I will be ready to help in any way I can," D'Amato assured his friend.
Having secured a pledge of assistance from Rudolfo, Franco left for his meeting with Lee.
--------------------------------
Lee stood as he recognized the tall man in the jeans and rugby shirt as Franco Fellini. Franco resembled his uncle, Sergio, who had been Lee and Amanda's contact when they had come to Rome in 1984. That unfortunate business with the coin...... He had the same salt and pepper graying hair; the same sparkling blue eyes. He also had the same reputation within the Agency of being very good at his job.
"Nice outfit. Are you undercover as an American tourist," Lee joked.
"I like to relax and I happen to like American casual clothes," his guest retorted. "Now, what has happened?"
Lee sat back down on the bench and motioned for his fellow operative to join him. The area was a small garden located at the back of the hotel property. Except for a couple of young boys kicking around a soccer ball, they were alone. "I suppose you know that I have the program to decipher the codes used by various terrorist groups - not to mention your local Mafia friends."
"Not *my* friends, my friend," Franco smiled. "Please continue."
"Well," Lee started, clenching and unclenching his fists as he talked, "there has been a breach of security somewhere. Somebody knows I've got the program and they know I'm here with my family. Franco," Lee looked at his companion, his expression reflecting all the pain and fear and anger that he felt, "they've got my boy....they've kidnapped my son, I....." his voice broke and he couldn't go on. The muscle in his jaw tightened alarmingly. Taking a few deep breaths, he finally got control of his emotions and went on. "This guy called. Didn't give a name. He just said he - they - know I have the ciphers and they have my son and they'll trade. I managed to convince him that I don't have the program with me."
"How did you do that?" Franco asked gently.
"Well, I told him that some idiot at the airport x-rayed the case the disk was in and ruined it. So, I'm having a copy sent over, but by international Fed-Ex. No direct government involvement and I'm still the courier. I told him it'll be here in seventy-two hours. Seventy-two hours, that's all the time I've got or," Lee looked at Franco pleadingly, "*we've* got to find the bad guys and rescue my boy."
"We will find them and save your son, my friend. How did they get your boy?"
Lee recounted what Jenny had told them about the girl at the pool and Billy going with her, supposedly to her room to meet and have dinner with her father. Lee and Amanda had gone up to room ten-twenty and picked the lock and looked around, but the room seemed to be unoccupied and showed no signs of a struggle.
'Of course,' Lee thought angrily, 'how much of a struggle could a kid put up against...against who knew how many and what kind of men!'
"You will bring your daughter into the Agency and we can have our artist make a composite drawing - which we can then have shown all over Roma. You are very lucky that your little girl saw this...this..maladetta!"
"Yeah." Lee responded laconically, suddenly emotionally drained. "Look, I'll have Amanda bring Jenny down to your office. I'm gonna get on the phone with DC. Maybe they can come up with some ideas about where this leak came from. Oh, and could you have a team go over that room? As soon as possible, before they rent it out. Maybe there are prints or..or anything that might help."
"Of course. I will send my best forensics investigators," Franco promised. "You have not notified the Police?"
"No, no way," Lee said emphatically. "No police. No publicity."
"Very wise. And I can assure you, my friend, the leak did *not* come from my office."
"I believe you. I have a hunch it came from somewhere inside the US Embassy. They knew we were coming. It was at a party given by the Ambassador where I was to pass the disk, well, it's actually a CD with more than one deciphering program on it, to a colonel in Army Intelligence, Special Anti-Terrorist Branch. He was supposed to get copies to you and to the CIA. I don't know whose bright idea it was to go through the Embassy instead of simply giving the thing to you and letting our Agency people handle it, but if I ever find out - well, they are going to be very sorry," Lee enunciated each word.
"Where is the, ahh, the CD?" Franco asked, casually.
"It's in a safe place," Lee responded, staring down at his hands.
"What are you going to do with it?"
Well, I'm sure as hell not going to that Embassy party tomorrow night!" He looked directly into Franco's eyes. "When I get my son back - safely-, *then* I'll turn it over to Col. Martin."
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Jenny looked around in awed silence. She had never been downstairs in the DC Agency, so seeing the inner workings of the Rome bureau was pretty exciting stuff.
"Com'on honey, you sit down right here and help the computer sketch artist come up with a picture of Angelina." Amanda steered her daughter to a chair beside the terminal where an attractive young woman waited to start the process of creating an image of the girl who had lured her son into a trap.
"Please, Jenny, sit down and we will get started," the technician smiled encouragingly.
Jenny looked up at her mother. "Is this gonna help, Billy, really?"
Amanda saw her own concern reflected in the wide, dark brown eyes of her daughter. "You bet, sweetheart. When we have a photo we can start circulating it, and then we'll find this girl and get her to tell us where your brother is. You just take your time now, and give as much detail as you can remember."
"OK. Well, she had long brown, kinda straight hair. And brown eyes. Her face was, oh yeah, kinda like that. How'd you do that so fast?"
Marcellina, the artist, just smiled. "I have my ways."
"Umm, well that's good, but I think the eyebrows should be a little thicker - not a lot - just a little. And the nose should be a little longer. Yeah, that's very good."
After a few more adjustments, Jenny surveyed the sketch critically. "Yup. That's it." She looked up at her mother. "That's really her."
"Good. We'll get copies made and get them shown all over the city." Amanda smiled encouragingly at her daughter - as much for her own benefit as for Jenny's.
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With the picture of Angelina in his hands, Franco called Rudolfo again. The two Italians, both being fathers themselves and both being eager to help the Stetsons recover their son in whatever way they could, agreed to see to it that within a few hours, this photo would be in the hands of every law enforcement officer in Rome.
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It was mid afternoon the next day when Rudolfo received a call from an old friend in the Carabinieri. One of his men, on a whim, had shown the girl's picture to the principal of his daughter's school.
Paydirt!
They now had a name and an address.
Rudolfo's division had been investigating a connection between a local family of La Cosa Nostra and various terrorist groups, in the mid-east and in Italy, including one headed by Ruggerio Di Stefano. D'Amato knew there were arms sales and intelligence gathering, among other illegal activities. Rudolfo was also aware that an Italian national working at the American Embassy, one Georgio Allesandro, has been passing interesting bits of information, gossip, whatever came his way, to his girlfriend, Claudia DeBarga, whose brother, Antonio, was involved with that same Cosa Nostra group and probably with Di Stefano's organization.
Rudolfo called to inform Franco of this very encouraging development. It was decided that two men under Rudolfo's command would check out the address today and then stake out the school, starting the following morning. Franco suggested that they wait until tomorrow before telling Lee anything. No point getting his hopes up just yet.......
The address on file at the school turned out to be phony, but the next morning Sofia Di Stefano showed up for classes. She was taken to the nearest police station, and then transferred to the custody of the Agency.
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Amanda took a deep breath and walked into the starkly furnished, brightly lit interrogation room, closing the door behind her. "Angelina, I'm Amanda Stetson. I'm Billy's mother."
The girl looked up briefly, just long enough for Amanda to see the fear in her eyes, then turned her head away.
"I imagine you're scared. I *know* my son is. He's just fourteen and he pretends to be big and tough, but I know he's got to be afraid........... bein' taken by strangers and held captive.... and in a foreign country. He won't understand what they're saying. He's......." Amanda's voice trailed off as she tried to hold onto the little bit of composure she had left and choke back the tears that were beginning to blur her vision.
Lee watched through the two-way mirror. He could see that Amanda was about to lose control. He wanted to burst into the room, grab that girl and shake the truth out of her. But instead, he clenched his fists and waited. He knew better than anyone his wife's inner strength. He also knew her ability to get through to people. She would know how to reach this Angelina ....... or Sofia, this terrorist's daughter, and she would get her to tell where their son was being held. He could see that Amanda had said something else to the girl. Then she held out her arms and Angelina got up and took the few steps across the room and into Amanda's embrace. They stood that way, just holding each other for a few moments. Then Angelina returned to the table, pulled the pad of paper and pen towards her and began to write.
In a few minutes, Amanda came out of the room, wiping tears from her eyes. "Poor thing. Her mother's dead and she's really scared to death of her father. Here," she held out a piece of paper. "This is where they're holding Billy." Then she fell into Lee's arms and wept quietly.
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The door to the room opened and the same two men came in. One was tall and well muscled, kind of old - maybe in his thirties, Billy thought. The other man was short and rather heavy-set and balding. He was really old, probably as old as his dad, although, Billy observed, his father had all his ownhair and kept himself in pretty good physical condition.
They had brought the same kind of food. A small bowl of vegetable soup, a plate with some sort of pasta in a tomato sauce and a piece of rather stale bread, which did soften up when he soaked it in the sauce. 'Oh well,' Billy sighed, 'no milk, no meat but it's better than starvin' I guess.'
He had been in this small, dingy room for what seemed liked days and days. The cot was uncomfortable. The chair was hard. There was no TV or radio. No bathroom either. Just a bucket and a sink with only cold water. It was not the kind of thing his mother would approve of. All in all, it was worse than camping out. Much worse.
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It was one of those countless, narrow little streets of Rome, lined with what were probably described as tenements when Napoleon's army came to town...... dirt and kids and noise....... and in the midst of all the apparent squalor, a beautiful Renaissance-era marble fountain, probably made by some long forgotten student of Maestro Bernini, or one of his successors; its waters filled with orange peels, torn pieces of paper and other, even less attractive bits of debris.
Lee and Amanda walked slowly down the street, which Amanda thought looked more like an alley, holding hands and trying to look like a couple of tourists who were maybe just a little lost.
"I feel like I should be singing Que Sera,Sera," Amanda said in a trembling voice.
"What?" Lee looked down at her quizzically.
"You know, like Doris Day in that movie *The Man Who Knew Too Much*, where she and Jimmy Stewart were looking for their little boy who'd been kidnapped."
"I must've missed that one." Lee smiled indulgently at his wife's thought processes. Not to say that those same, seemingly convoluted thought processes hadn't saved his backside on more than one occasion.
"Didn't you ever watch TV before we were married?"
"Sports, dear, I watched mostly sports, not old movies."
"Well, maybe you should've watched this one. It might have given you some ideas."
"Hey, Angelina said they had Billy in number twelve, in an apartment upstairs in the back. In a few minutes, this street's gonna be full of agents and cops - good guys. We're gonna have our boy back in maybe half an hour tops. OK?" He squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled more broadly.
"OK," she answered, squeezing his hand in return. "Half an hour - tops," she repeated.
-------------------------
Several members of D'Amato's anti-terrorist squad had made their way to the roof of the building next door and from there to the roof of number Twelve. Their mission was to repel the short way down the outside of the building and then swing in through the windows of the apartment where Billy was being held. This was to be timed to coincide with the main group crashing in through the front door. Each group had smoke bombs and flash-bang devices. The object was to create as much noise and confusion as possible and to overwhelm and disarm the men in the apartment. Surveillance teams had estimated that there were six men inside, probably heavily armed. But the order had been given - there was to be as little shooting as possible. Their objective was to save the life of an American boy, whose father was a former agent - one of their own.
Lee wanted to be part of the main assault group but D'Amato, helped by some pleading looks from Amanda, had managed to convince him that his lack of objectivity could endanger not only himself but other members of the team. It might even put Billy's life at risk.
Lee grudgingly agreed to wait with Amanda.
The operation went off pretty much as planned. Two of the terrorists and one of the team members received minor flesh wounds.
Billy was taken, uninjured and not too much the worse for wear, downstairs and into the eager embrace of his parents. "Boy!" He recounted excitedly the noise and smoke and gunfire and........
"Sweetheart, are your sure you're OK?" His mother asked for the fourth or fifth time, looking him over from head to toe.
"Mom, I'm fine. I'm hungry is all."
Lee smiled and relaxed for the first time in days. Billy was all right. More than all right. He seemed to have inherited his mother's ability to bounce back from the most harrowing situations. "He's fine, honey." Lee put one arm around Amanda and the other arm around his son. "Let's go back to the Agency and pick up Jenny and then I'm takin' you all out to dinner. How does fettucine at Alfredo's sound?"
"Great," Amanda said, as they started for their rental car.
"Wait a minute," Billy stopped and looked at Lee. "Is *fettacine* some kind of pasta? Couldn't we have hamburgers? I'd really *love* a hamburger!"
"Oh com'on Billy," his mother smiled broadly. "When in Rome, ya know."
"Mom..."
"What, sweetie?"
"Don't call me *Billy*. OK?"
"I forgot."
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TAG
After a week of sight-seeing in the not always unobtrusive company of U.S. military personnel - which had been ordered by the President himself - the Stetson family was more than ready to bid farewell to the Eternal City.
-----------------------
"Amanda, if you want to make a stop at the Trevi Fountain and throw in some more coins - you better hurry up."
"Lee......"
"What?" He looked at his wife's serious expression.
"Let's skip Trevi. After all that's happened, I don't think I could handle another trip to Rome."
"I think you're right. Kids," Lee called into the adjoining room, "finish packing and let's get started for the airport. It's a long flight home."
"I'm ready!" Billy called out. "Boy, I can't wait to get home and tell my friends.............."
"Young man, you will NOT tell your friends anything. It's *Need To Know* and they don't need to know. Got it?"
"Yes, Dad. I got it."
"Told ya," Jenny smirked, then ducked as the pillow thrown by her brother came sailing at her head.
end