Frannie's Lament
By Tanya Reed
Disclaimer: Due South doesn't belong to me. I wish it did, but it doesn't.
Ready for more craziness?
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Early the next morning, in a nondescript building in an underpopulated part of the countryside near Mario's estate, two men were speaking. Brother Joe, a young man in his late twenties, with dark hair and impishly twinkling hazel eyes, seemed little more than a boy, while his companion, Alley Cat, was big and grey headed with a grimly serious face. A roadmap of wrinkles showed his age, and his green eyes were as flinty as chisled stone. As Joe regarded his companion, he felt resentment once more rise within him. This was his first desk job, and his restlessness was slowly making him hate the bear-like Cat.
"You heard from the Pretender?" Alley Cat asked, his brows drawn together. "We weren't expecting a report for another two days."
"Something's come up." Joe leaned back insolently in his chair, chewing a piece of Speriment gum and waiting for Cat to take the bait.
It took only a few minutes for the older man to demand, "Well?"
"Remember those American blokes that were staying with Lawrence?"
"I remember something like that. They are of no consequence, we were told."
"Well, we were told wrong."
"Explain."
Brother Joe grinned. "It seems there's a slight complication."
"Yes? Damn you, Joe. Getting information from you is like pulling teeth."
Just the way he liked it when working with the old Cat. "It seems that they followed Lawrence into the lion's den."
"Did they..."
Joe raised his hand. "Let me finish, Cat. While they were visiting the old snake, it seems they came face to face with the Godmother."
"They didn't..."
Joe silenced his companion with a glare. "Remember what the CIA made the Godmother do? It all came unraveled."
"For God's sake, spit it out, man!"
"One of the bobbies is the Godmother's brother."
Alley Cat's mouth flew open in a most satisfying way.
"Oh, I see you understand our predicament."
"Bloody Yanks! We should have done this ourselves."
"They had first dibs, remember?"
"Still, if you want a job done right, get an Englishman to do it."
"That doesn't matter. What matters is that we've got orders."
"Which are?"
"We find the three cops and bring them in for a quick lesson on the NACT project."
"And then?"
"And then." Joe shrugged, "We either kill them or let them go. Whichever our boss decides. All that really matters is that the shock of seeing the Godmother doesn't make them do something stupid."
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As Ben and Kowalski sat in the cozy blue and white dining room waiting for both Vecchio and their supper to join them, the Mountie watched the owner's three daughters at work. Two of them, each with blazing orange hair, were serving guests, and the other seemed to be doing some kind of decorating.
She roamed the room, pinning a purple streamer here, a pink balloon there. Along with the welcoming white of the walls and the muted sky blue of the linens, the soft pastels seemed to add a soft cheerfulness to the room.
Every once in awhile, Fraser would glance at Kowalski, who looked even more high strung than usual. If he had ever doubted his assumations about the blond detective's affection towards Francesca, he couldn't now. He could tell Ray wanted to pace. It was evidenced in the quivering tightness of his lean body and the way he didn't know what to do with his hands.
When Vecchio appeared in the doorway across the room, Kowalski looked at him with an intensity that was almost frightening.
Ben moved his studied gaze from Kowalski to Vecchio, noticing that while his old friend seemed to have aged exponentially in the last year, some of that had fallen away over the last twenty-four hours. There was a determination, a steeliness, that had been missing for a long time. The look on his face seemed positive, assuring Fraser of his success.
He hadn't even reached the table yet when Kowalski demanded, "So, what'd he say?"
Vecchio raised his eyebrows as he plunked down into his chair. "Which one?"
"Take yer pick." This came out as a growl, and Ray's blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Well," Vecchio rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Welsh told me that it's all right if we take another week off, as long as Frobisher doesn't mind. I told him about Benny's call home. That means we should have the time we need."
"And?"
"And I didn't get to talk to Williams." As Kowalski's face fell, he hastened to add, "But I did talk to his assistant--some French chick with a sexy voice. She said that her boss is free in the afternoon the day after tomorrow and pencilled us in. We can't do anything else until then."
"So, we wait?" Ben finally spoke, causing Kowalski to scowl.
"I hate waitin'."
"It's either wait or run in there unprepared. That won't be doing my sister any favours." Then he took a gulp of the water sitting on the table. "But I hate waiting too."
Even Ben nodded at this, thinking of all they could be doing if they just knew where to start.
"How d'ya suppose she got here?" Kowalski asked again.
"With any luck, Ray, we'll know the day after tomorrow."
Then talking stopped as one of the smiling red-headed McKinnon girls started moving their way, her tray full of food. Though he knew Kowalski would be disappointed, Ben was pleased to see that it wasn't fish and chips.
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Frannie was dreaming when the knock came upon her door early the next morning. It was a dream filled with light and love, laughing children and adults that were trying to out talk each other. It was a dream of home. Trying to ignore the knock, she groaned and rolled over, pulling her blankets over her head. The knock came again, this time louder and more insistant.
"Renata, get up," came a gruff voice.
The voice cut through the last cobwebs of sleep, setting her immediately on edge. She recognized it as that of Jim Vickers, a man whose harsh and brutal treatement of others often made her stomach clench in fear. Not wanting to make him knock twice, she stumbled out of bed, her heart racing.
Fearful curiosity made her grab her robe without bothering to dress. For Vickers to come to her room without Mario was a first; the older man did not trust his goons with his 'princess'. This in itself was enough to cause cold beads of sweat to form on the back of her neck.
Nervously tucking dark strands behind her ears, she opened the door and asked, "What is it?"
"Come with me."
"Why?"
"Just come."
His tone showed he would suffer no argument so, pulling her robe tighter against her, Frannie stepped into the hallway. She studied the grim, handsome face for a moment, struck once more by its coldness.
"Is...is something wrong with Mario?" she asked semi-calmly, struggling to slip into her role.
The big man never answered. Instead, he put a surprisingly gentle hand under her elbow and began to lead her through the majestic corridors.
Something was strange, and in her half wakened state, it took Frannie a few moments to figure out what it was. Then, startled, she realized that a hush hung over everything. Where maids and other employees should be scurrying around performing their morning duties, there was only an almost tangible silence. Its unnaturalness made Frannie shiver, and she wished she were not alone with Vickers.
The shiver deepened as a pain filled scream made the hair at her nape stand on end. It was a tortured sound, one that seemed as if it was being ripped unbidden from its owner. Forgetting her fear of Jim, Frannie reached for the comfort of another human being. At her clasping of his arm, Vickers looked at her. She almost believed that she saw his eyes soften.
"That's nothing for you to worry about, Renata."
She did not let go of his arm. As they moved through the corridors, she occasionally heard more screams or curses. Each one made her want to cry out, and she was sure her complexion must be the color of milk.
After what seemed like hours, but must have just been a few minutes, they stopped in a section of the manor she had never been in. Vickers reached in his belt and took out a ring of nasty looking keys. Frannie watched numbly as he chose one and put it in the lock on one of the doors.
As the door opened, he said, "Now be a good girl and go inside."
"You're locking me in?" she squealed.
"Temporarily, but you won't be alone."
Then he shut the door in her face. Frannie stared at it for several breaths before muttering, "Jerk."
She turned, taking in the room around her and noting sounds of water running. It was extravagant quarters for a jail cell. Opulant wall hangings of deer and doves covered two of the walls. Another had two queen sized beds in ornately carved boxes with silk sheets and comforters as well as two cherry bedstands and two antique dressers. Near the door she had entered was a small, very expensive table with two chairs, and various other elegant chairs dotted the room. The wall with the hangings also boasted a fireplace and a writing desk that looked to be hundreds of years old. The sounds she heard seemed to be coming from the last wall, one with a door in its middle. Frannie assumed that was a bathroom. Beside the door, one on each side, were two large wardrobes, and beside the table, where breakfast was laid out, was a large bookcase.
The door opened and a familiar face exited, rubbing vigorously at her dark hair with a towel. She was wearing a peach colored robe and had obviously just gotten out of the shower. She looked at Frannie, her face set grimly, and gave her a slight nod.
"Good morning, Renata."
"Mornin', Ang," Frannie replied automatically. "Do you know what the hell's goin' on?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
Meg threw her towel on one of the expensive chairs and rubbed her forehead with a hand. Frannie saw traces of worry go through her dark eyes but knew better than to comment on it.
"Well?"
"A most amazing thing has happened. It seems that our dear stable hand Harvey turned out to be a traitor. He was giving Mario's secrets away to some very important people."
Frannie felt the blood drain from her face again as her hands began to tremble. She lowered herself onto one of the nearby chairs. Somehow, she managed to keep her breathing from sounding loud and harsh but she didn't know if she could keep from passing out.
"In fact, it turns out that Harvey was an English spy, and now Mario is afraid there are other spies in his midst. He's locking up and interrigating everyone on the premises to find out if they know anything," Meg continued.
Remembering the screams, Frannie's stomach turned over, and she had to fight not to throw up.
"Terrific," she whispered.
Meg scowled. "I thought so. Fun too. My employer--your lover--seems to have provided us with clothes, so we may as well get dressed. You never know when our turn will be.
With that, she walked to one of the wardrobes and started rummaging. Frannie just watched her mutely, fear and confusion strong within her. Would they be found out? And if they were, would she live to see another morning?