*** 19 ***

The next day, before going up to the concrete island, the penguins were sitting at the table. Their concern level was the same as 24 hours earlier. The second nighttime meeting about the issue had been so unsuccessful as the first one, but by everybody's decision also much shorter.

"Hello, pen-gu-ins. Thank you for coming to our daily rendez-vous... but today I have nothing to say. Come back tomorrow." Manfredi imitated Blowhole's shrill voice (or he tried).

"Yes..." Skipper said. "Yesterday he pulled our legs."

"As long as it's only that..." Blake said.

"After what we said yesterday I don't think today it's useful to come back to this issue," Johnson said. "We have no new intel... maybe today we'll have, I'd wait to see what happens today."

There was a general nodding. Too bad, they were clueless.

"Wait..." Private got everyone's attention. "What if he's not a villain but a simple prankster?"

Kowalski looked at him incredulous. Private noticed the gesture.

"A villain wouldn't put himself out, he would simply accomplish his plan and prefer nobody to know it until it was too late."

"My young and innocent Private," Skipper replied, "it's great for you to keep that naive attitude for some things... but these tactical issues should be left for the adults."

"Hey, I'm an adult," Private protested.

"And short, cute, cuddly and adorable," Skipper replied pulling his cheeks. "Nobody with your age lives in a fantasy world as you do. Think about Blake: she's younger than you and -" Blake's serious stare cut him short.

"If we want to know if he's a prankster, the best thing is to ask another prankster," Kowalski said.

They all looked at Manfredi.

"What? Wasn't Kowalski the options guy?"

The truth was that Manfredi felt a bit surpassed in that moment. He was used to not being taken seriously when he intervened. It was so usual for him to laugh about everything that he was never believed when he spoke seriously.

"Well, okay..." he finally said. "I think that a prankster wouldn't put himself out either. There are some out there a bit brainless, as everywhere... I was... but you learn. You know who you can pick on and who you can't. And we know that this one sent letters to our superiors. You must be very thoughtless to look for trouble with them. Even I wouldn't do it." He heard coughing from several penguins. "Intentionally, of course."

Manfredi breathed deeply. Six pairs of eyes stared at him attentively. He had never imagined that his public would pay him more attention if he spoke seriously. He continued.

"In addition, that guy practically has given us a car."

"A tapped car which records us, which may fail in the worst moment, which may explode..." Skipper said.

"Kaboom!" Rico shouted enthusiastically.

"Technically, what we have is the bodywork of a recreational strolling car for preschoolers and a kart engine," Kowalski said taking his abacus. "And yes... the gift is expensive."

"That's where I was going," Manfredi said. "Pranksters have a limited budget. I don't think he's a prankster. The one with money spends it, as simple as that. The one with no money uses the think melon and does other things... such as pranks."

Manfredi's comment convinced the rest. If they had money, they all would do very different things from the ones they were doing. There was a general nodding.

"Then the villain option wins," Skipper said. "But... why would he want us to go and stop him?"

"Rico and I think that it is a trap," Blake said.

Blake covered her beak as soon as she saw the others' saucy smile.

"Rico and you?" Skipper's stare matched his grin. "When have you two talked?"

"Before you grabbed my flipper, brute," she answered annoyed. "Do you remember?"

"Skipper... this is not the way to treat a lady," Johnson said before Skipper could open his beak.

"Should I treat her like you do?" Skipper was slightly annoyed.

"Hey, I don't harm the females," Johnson protested. "Besides, I agreed on a truce with her."

"Definitive peace is better than a truce," Private said. "Will you make peace definitively? Recognize that you feel better not hating."

"I've already said it... I don't hate her," Johnson replied.

Private looked at Blake. "Blake?"

It was true... since the truce had begun, even if it was because they were avoiding each other, Blake had started to hate him a bit less. Not that she considered him a very close friend in no way, but at least she could be near him not feeling fear or revulsion. Peace may be the next step. But nothing beyond.

"Okay," she said spreading her flipper.

Johnson made the same gesture. The flippershake was clumsy, but necessary. Especially for her. She had too much resentment in her heart and she couldn't afford little enemies. She was focused on the three Bronx penguins. She frowned.

"Blake... anything wrong?" Private asked.

"No, nothing... not him, really," she answered.

Skipper had seen the gesture too and entered the conversation like a tank.

"Let's go... it's time to go up. Later you'll get melodramatic if you want... now we have work to do, we have to entertain people."

And, while they were entertaining people, they were too busy to pay attention to the unknown individual sneaking in the garage.

.

Having the visiting time finished, they all had a little free time. Blake spent it as she liked to spend it: sharing her silence with Rico. She didn't really understand what attracted her to him, she couldn't give it a name. She was at ease with him, they didn't confront about anything... His presence transmitted her peace. And something more, but she couldn't describe it. Something that she had never felt and that no-one else made her feel. Something nobody had ever talked about to her.

Blake didn't have a name for that, but she didn't need it. She only needed it to happen, to let arrive the moment where she could be next to him. And then it was as if time stopped.

Rico also wanted that moment to arrive, and he had never thought that he would like to be relaxed, not thinking about explosions and those things he had in his head (which matched what he had in his stomach). To be with her, simply. He didn't think that something so apparently empty would fill him so much.

But Rico, as opposed to Blake, had a name for that. Rico could describe it, it was as if one thousand butterflies fluttered between the flamethrower and the explosives and all that. He, with his rushed jargon, had already confessed it to Private... and the piece of advice he had been given was to tell Blake. But he couldn't. It was something that, when he heard others commenting it, made him instinctively feel sick.

"Tell her," he heard in his head... but he couldn't. Better to move into action? It was another piece of advice given by Private. To wait for the opportune moment and to kiss her, her not expecting it. But... what if she rejected him? Moments for trying occurred constantly, he could have broken any of the silence times that they shared. Private had told him now or never, and Rico knew that he was there. He had seen him leaning under the fishbowl. Rico breathed deeply. Yes, now or never... how easy to say.

He didn't know why, but he did another unexpected thing. He touched her slightly and she jerked up. Yes... she was ticklish. Very ticklish! For her it was hard to put up with that and she moved unconsciously, but she laughed out loud. Could there be something better than making someone laugh?

She counter-attacked, he was also ticklish. He put up with it better than her, but some made him jerk up unwillingly too. Both penguins were rolling on the concrete among laughters. And then...

Then they looked at each other. Both had their heads tilted and were gasping after the battle. They knew for sure that their beaks were half an inch distant at most. Rico thought: what if he closed his eyes and kissed her then?

Private covered his eyes as if he were a little child when he witnessed a kiss, he knew that he shouldn't see that... Well, that was in the past. Now he was old enough. But that wasn't right. But... he had to know. What should he do? At the end, neither covered nor uncovered eyes... that kiss didn't occur. The two spied penguins were staring at each other motionless. They had exchanged the silence of hugging for the silence of staring. What could there be so mesmerizing in the opposite eyes so as not to reach to a kiss? What thoughts did they transmit to each other while speechless? What secret pacts could there be between two penguins who didn't speak but whose souls seemed to be intertwined?

Rico and Blake continued that way until he first and she later stood up. Private hid his head not to be seen and climbed down the ladder. At the bottom, he complained.

"Stupids, stupids, stupids! There's no way with them, it's impossible! Impossible!"

Poor lovebirds, they loved each other and they couldn't even admit it.

.

It wasn't long for the hour set by Blowhole. The seven penguins were waiting impatiently.

"I bet you he tells us again some nonsense like yesterday," Johnson let out.

"I don't know if I prefer him to kid us or to tell us something important, honestly," Skipper replied.

They weren't late to know it. After some seconds, an instrumental piece invaded the garage.

"I fear with this guy is that, if there's music, he's going to make us dance and dizzy," Manfredi commented disdainfully.

The music volume turned down and the penguins' earholes thanked it.

"Hello, pen-gu-ins! I won't speak today, I introduce you to Red Four."

"Do we have to say hello?" Blake asked apathetic.

"You'd better, princess," Blowhole replied.

"Don't call me princess," she said severely.

"I can call you as I like. Smack."

Blake made a gesture of disgust. Rico clenched his fists enraged.

"I won't talk with you." Blake's tone was arrogant.

"You'll talk." Blowhole paused and went on. "Red Four has to tell you something."

"Let him be brief," Skipper said. "We're in a hurry for doing nothing."

"Oh, how impolite... I didn't expect that from the boss," Blowhole said in a semitheatrical tone.

"Well... can I start?" they heard say.

"Go ahead, Red Four," his boss replied.

"Thank you. Well, I wanted to tell you that today I've seen you and I've liked your show."

The six males adopted instinctively a defensive stance. Blake hadn't that reflex internalized yet.

"But I've gone to work. I had to enter your garage."

"What for?" Skipper asked curtly.

"I've installed cameras. No, don't look so... you cannot see them. Blowhole uses nanotechnology."

"Nanoidontknowwhat, ghosts, unicorns... are you kidding us?" Skipper's tone was sarcastic.

"Nanotechnology," Blowhole corrected. "I'm sure Kowalski knows what I'm talking about. Now, besides hearing you, I see you. You cannot pound or disconnect the cameras because you cannot see them. But don't worry... the day we'll meet I'll have a deactivator key that you can use to locate, deactivate and destroy them. And the same with the transmitter. You can even keep the car for yourselves if you want! But that will be... if you defeat me." Blowhole laughed boisterously.

Kowalski was doubly suspicious: on the one hand, a watchfulness that they couldn't evade with their own means; on the other hand, that familiar laughter that he couldn't identify.

"Listen, giggles," he told him raising his voice. "I'm going to neutralize all your nanogizmos."

"Go ahead," Blowhole replied. "But it's not a good idea. You'll need them to locate me. And you'll regret if you don't do it. It will be something you can see with your own eyes... or on TV."

"Better on TV, right?" Private said naively.

"Private, he's threatening us..." Skipper replied to him. "He plans something big."

"And how will you make us locate you?" Johnson asked.

"You'll come in the car. I'll give you directions... remember that I have it located 24/7. Well... we had talked about this, I think."

"And how do you want to make us go in only one car?" Kowalski asked. "It has four seats and we are seven penguins. Maths are not your thing."

"You're wrong... I have calculated everything. I can only tell you that... all of you won't come."

"Blowhole!" Skipper shouted. "Don't play with us. I don't like your threats. The seven of us will go and we'll break your face. Don't even doubt it."

Johnson approached the car.

"Blowhole, I'm Johnson."

"Yes, I know..."

"A deal: you get another car for us and we go where you say. If we defeat you, both cars are ours. If you win... well..."

"Well."

"Yes?"

"No, I said well because well is the only option. I'll defeat you."

"I want to negotiate."

"And I don't."

"A borrowed car, you keep it for yourself and we get a life to come back."

"You're stubborn, pen-gu-in. I insist on that you all won't come. You have enough with one. And now I want you all to leave except Kowalski."

"No way, Blowhole," Skipper replied. "You won't talk alone with anyone in the team."

"I will do it... because, if you don't agree to do as I say, you won't come and see me. And I'll accomplish my plan although you're not here at the indicated date. You'll do as I say."

"And, if not... what?"

They heard a little explosion. Private shrieked and shook his flipper. Kowalski went to revise it. He put on it an ointment and a bandage from the first-aid kit that Rico had just regurgitated.

"That," Blowhole answered. "I've detonated one of the cameras. They have nanoexplosives. But... do you know what? They aren't all alike, this one was weak."

"Son of a -"

"Calm down, Skipper... If you behave well, nothing will happen. I won't detonate more if you do as I say. Ah, and for Kowalski: this includes not trying to deactivate them."

They all remained silent.

"I should take a photo of yours now," Blowhole commented laughing. "Well... you can leave. Eh, Kowalski... you can't. Remember that I see you."

"Be careful with him," Johnson told him in a low voice.

The door closed. Kowalski was in the middle of the garage, expectant.

"I like you to obey me," Blowhole started. "Well, now that we are alone we can talk from scientist to scientist."

Kowalski was silent and with his flippers crossed.

"If you want me to talk alone... okay. It's a pity because I know that you love talking. But let's negotiate and, as the negotiation terms I'm going to accept are mine, then you make things easier for me. The deal is simple: when you come, you will stay with me. You will be my helper."

"Over my dead body," Kowalski finally replied.

"No... I want you alive. We'll see what I do with the others, but you'll survive. For working with me, of course."

"I don't work with mad scientists."

"And aren't you one? I want to dominate the world. Wouldn't you do it if you could?"

"No."

"Come on, Kowalski..." Blowhole had lowered his voice and sounded eerie. "You'd do it. You play the good guy, but we both know that power beats you."

"You're wrong."

"Well... that's what you think. I could detonate another camera, but then I should send Red Four to replace them and it's a bore. I let you sleep on it, I'll ask you again. Good night."

Kowalski left saying nothing and slamming the door.