Author: Mirrordance

Title: For Every Evil

Summary: Legolas is a policeman in 2004. His colleagues start to wonder why the 10-yr veteran doesn't age & more trouble ahead after he runs across the Fellowship & some friends in modern incarnations, resurrected along with a new world-threatening peril.

16: Espionage

Imladris, Mid-2004

You have new mail.

The day was going to be an interesting, particularly informative one, Elrohir guessed. Anatalia was coming home with Elladan today, and he just received the reply from the gifted hacker he's commissioned to find out more about Fortress International, and the murder of Estel's relatives.

Grimacing, he scanned through the multitude of files—the hacker was, after all, paid to gather a multitude of information, not to read them and give him an executive summary.

Elrohir effectively had hundreds of police reports, ten years' worth of financial statements, ten years' worth of minutes of the board meetings, reports and briefings on the issues and operations of every manufacturing facility they had worldwide, a list of all their employees, a list of all their clients, an inventory of all their works in progress, blueprints of their weapon designs, a following of their stock market performance for the last decade…

I'm going to be cross-eyed when I'm done, he decided.

Legolas, who was sitting beside him, sighed audibly, likely thinking the same thing.

"We have to delegate," the Mirkwood elf decided.

"I get first dibs on the graphs," Elrohir said sardonically, "You can have all the text."

"Gracious of you," Legolas murmured, copying the files to his own laptop. "But this is work made for more than two. Our friends have been very helpful so far. Perhaps they can also contribute thus."

Elrohir winced. "Yes. Work delegation sounds about right. I mean, we're trying to look at old Elvish texts for a phenomenon like this, right? And we're also trying to find what mission could possibly be in store for us through Fortress International, right? And we're also trying to investigate Estel's family's assassination. And then there's that big, troubling, yawning gap about what link one has with the other. I'm thinking on five dimensions here, mellon-nin. I'm starting to get the feeling I really have no idea where to start. It's like, all the players are here, but we're still waiting for the rules of the game."

Elladan and Anatalia returned that afternoon to find everyone in the house busy with work. Elrohir was focused upon the Elvish texts that looked for a situation comparable to the one they were in, while Legolas focused on searching for spells and potions to make their 'forgetful' friends remember who they once were. Adrian was looking through all the weapons Fortress International has made and designed over the years and were developing at present, as well as their list of clients and researching on possible links to terrorist organizations or the black market. Fred and Brad (because it really would have been a tad bit morbid to assign the task to Adrian), were looking into the deaths of Estel's line, studying the circumstances and common suspects. Gandalf had a good handle upon the board meeting minutes, the list of key employees, the briefings from the offices and facilities all over the world.

Ana, they welcomed back with a thick sheaf of papers, deciding she would understand the financial statements and stock markets best of all. She took it from a grinning Elrohir.

"What am I looking for?" she asked him wryly.

"Anything anomalous," replied the elf.

"You want some rumors that you cannot find in reports and papers?" she asked, "Craxi Multinational researches on every possible thing before making key investments. My father asked me to go to the Fortress party to gather gossip and hear the talk. That is where the best information is."

The other members of the group looked up from their work, finding the premise interesting and the temporary distraction a well-deserved rest.

"People say there's going to be a big shift," said Anatalia, "No one's sure exactly where and how, but it's happening very soon, and Fortress is going to be right in the middle of it. We're talking about the premiere weapons and military technology company in the world here, and with all the things going on with wars and all the fears of terrorism… if someone is going to earn big, it's going to be them."

"What exactly do they do?" Brad asked.

"Up until just a couple of years ago," said Anatalia, "They just had the best military research and development labs in the world. We're talking about hand weapons, bombs, guns, tanks, armored vehicles, planes, ships, software and hardware, even developing food rations, space food… anything you could possibly link to armed force, they can make and develop. They were often subcontracted to improve on something, or they developed their designs and thereafter sold them. But a few years ago, they expanded to mass manufacturing their goods too."

"Most of the facilities are less than ten years old," put in Gandalf.

"The expansion was attributed to your favorite guy," she said to Elladan, "Grissom Warrington, who rose among the ranks very quickly. He's the ambitious kind, brilliant, yes, but you're never quite sure what he's after. Anyway, Fortress stocks soared, he managed to make Teodoro three or four times richer, so they kept him around. But then, the rumors are, Teodoro's nephew Emmett, who is the heir to the family fortune since Teodoro has no child of his own, absolutely despises Warrington and they always step on each other's toes. Emmett is active in the Unions, his employees all adore him, they'll follow him to the ends of the Earth. He's against downsizing, lay-offs, full contractualizing of labor, et cetera. And then here comes Warrington, who's only after all the profits and cutting down costs. The rumors of last night was that Emmett got into a heated argument with Teodoro some days ago for several reasons: first, Emmett is instrumental in the lockout of one of their plants in Italy, so his uncle was not too pleased about that. And then, Emmett compounded it by tossing out accusations over his uncle's 'pet' Warrington, saying that the man was a spy and working for somebody else. Teodoro, of course given what Warrington's done for the business so far, refused to believe it. So Emmett brings it down to an ultimatum: me or him. Well. Warrington was at the party last night, Emmett was not."

"Why would Emmett think Warrington's a spy?" Legolas asked.

"Well someone's been secretly hoarding Fortress stock," Anatalia replied, "They've been making the right decisions, buying at the right price, the right time. Almost as if they were working on insider information, or industrial espionage. It's a crime, yes, but it is not altogether uncommon. Maybe Emmett has some proof. Anyway, I wouldn't call it a big world-threatening evil, eh?"

Elladan frowned. "But we're talking about some unknown person trying to buy out the best weapons facilities in the world."

"Where's Emmett now?" Fred asked.

"Nursing his pride off somewhere," Ana replied, "I think I know just the place. You know why? It's because he's a bachelor, and he's wealthy beyond belief. That means all the particularly cunning single high society young women looking for a good catch to please their mummies and daddies always know where he is. They have waiters, and country club staff, and concierges on their payroll, you know. Clever, wealthy young women make the best spies."

Elladan grinned at her pointedly, but said nothing.

Emmett Rigare's paradise of choice was a small inn overlooking the Mediterranean sea near the tail-end of Italy. It was one of those charming little places situated along a sloping hill lined by layers of pleasant old houses facing the beautiful waters. It was one of the best harbor paradises in Europe. It was quiet, located in a waterfront town with winding ways barely large enough to fit a car, but it was hardly quaint.

Especially, Anatalia figured, since many of their clients were of the high society female kind, considering their patron was the heir to a thriving multinational company.

Elladan studied the amenities on their website. "Who's going?"
"Me, of course," Ana said primly, "So it won't be suspicious. I'd look just like any other girl there. Except… older."

"That means he won't give you the time of day," Elrohir smirked.

"People always give me the time of day," she told him boldly.

Elladan laughed. "Be that as it may, Ana, if he sets eyes on your photograph with Grissom Warrington, he won't be very much pleased with you."

Fred, who was leafing through the said article intently, looked up at them. "I could go."

Gandalf's brows rose, and Legolas noted it with some measure of nervousness. A clever wizard armed with an even cleverer idea was a dangerous, dangerous thing.

"A good idea, my boy," said the wizard, "the best, the very best. Two men amidst a sea of hungry young women would likely find some comradeship."

Legolas stared at the wizard at length. "No, not alone."
"None of the elves should go," Anatalia said, "There's always paparazzi there, given the company. We have to be as discreet as possible, eh? I found you," she nodded to Legolas"In that way, after all."

"And not Adrian," said Legolas, "We still don't know who's after you." He turned to Brad. "Are you up to the task?"

"Two brothers in a fancy Italian inn surrounded by beautiful, rich women," Brad said wryly, "Do you even need to ask?"

"We will stay in a place nearby," Legolas guaranteed them, "In case you run into trouble."

Messina, Sicily

Mid-2004

It was not very hard to find Emmett Rigare. Brad supposed the brash fellow who looked to be ill-suffering the attentions of beautiful young women in the lobby had to be him since there was no other male there but him and Fred.

The American took his time— Brad figured Rigare seemed a bit averse to any forward action from women, and likely men too. Quietly, barely paying the man he was spying on any real mind, he strode up to a clever bar and had a glass of red wine.

I could get used to this, he thought to himself wryly. The vacation part was truly great, although undoubtedly, the company of paranoid elves and a quirky wizard was too bizarre for his taste.

Fred was taking care of their reservations. It was a miracle they even found a room, but then again, it was Anatalia Craxi who made a call, and he suspected the woman had concierges and staff on her own payroll (the question was, of course, if she had ever been as much of a predator as the other women here).

"Thank you," Fred smiled at the desk man, who handed him his keys—not key cards, mind, for it seemed they had an affinity for the more austere. He was just turning around to find his brother, when he ran headlong into a woman, and at the very touch of their flesh, at the very scent of her hair, the very sight of the color of her eyes… he ran headlong into a much beloved memory too.

Eowyn, the name seemed to spring to his mind, and it sounded like a dream, it sounded like a destiny. But it was his dream, and his destiny, all locked in her wide and searching eyes.

Do you believe in love at first sight is a silly question until one meets up with it face to face.

He caught her by the arms to steady her, to steady himself, and he searched her eyes in wonder if she felt the same. Her gaze was turbulent, awash in emotions that were hers and yet also persistently not.

Who are you, they seemed to ask, Who am I…

"I'm sorry," he managed to say.

Her lips quirked to a nervous smile, and she backed away a step, leaning over her fallen things, and her voice was muffled as she said, "It's quite all right."

He leaned over to aid her. And she laughed nervously and said that it was all fine, she just should have watched where she was going. But he picked up her things and they stayed in his hands, so eager was he to aid her.

Her eyes narrowed teasingly at him. "Are you a bellboy or a thief, mister?"

He chuckled, and said he was only trying to help, and she said, "No one really does that much nowadays."

It was at this moment that Emmett Rigare strode over, and the crowds of females parted for him like the Red Sea to the fingers of God. His eyes were warm upon his sister and simply frigid cold upon Fred.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked.

"It was an accident," 'Eowyn' said to him, "We ran into each other, and he was helping me reclaim my things. Emmett, this is Faramir. And Faramir, this is my older brother."

Faramir? Fred thought, his heart suddenly pounding. But his voice was steady as he said, "It's Fred."

"I'm sorry," she said, flushing endearingly, "Right. I… I did not know what came over me."

Yes, Fred thought, considering we never even introduced ourselves.

Emmett took his sister's bags from Fred. "We have it covered."

"I will see you around… Eowyn," Fred dared.

"It's Eunice," she corrected him, sounding just as puzzled as he was when she had called upon him with a strange and different name.

Emmett watched them with ill-concealed dismay as he ushered his sister toward her suite. They were walking away when Brad met up with his brother and asked, "What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure," said Fred.

"Well," grinned Brad, "You got Rigare's attention, at least. Though it's not exactly the kind we hoped for."

TO BE CONTINUED…