Italy - December 31st, 1943

The patrol boat's engines were barely ticking over as she edged slowly into the small bay. The muffled exhaust would have scarcely been discernible from the shore and her dark hull was almost invisible against the grey ocean and grey sky. With no visible moon the only light was phosphorescence coming from the small waves breaking gently on the beach.

A seaman dropped an anchor off the stern. This they would use to winch themselves off the beach without using their engines. A slight jerk and the boat gently touched the sandy bottom. The skipper cut the engines and indicated to his passengers it was time to go over the side. They would be in over three feet of water and without the use of a dinghy the water would be over their waists. Each man carried a large dry bag containing his civilian clothing, ammunition and pistol and had stripped to their underwear to wade ashore.

The boat was already pulling itself back out into deeper water before its passengers reached the beach. By the time Lieutenant Garrison was on dry land the boat had gone.

A disembodied voice spoke from a short distance away. "Siete dei naufraghi che hanno bisogno di aiuto?" It was the code phrase Garrison had been expecting - 'Are you shipwrecked sailors needing help?'.

"Sì, sei una sirena?"

The voice sounded familiar to Garrison, but for the moment he couldn't quite place it. He put the thought to the back of his mind, sure it would come to him in due course.

A light laugh came from the woman who had spoken. She continued in Italian accented English. "Welcome ashore my friends, in front of you there is a small boat house. Inside you will find robes, towels, beach shoes and a shielded torch. There is a stairway from the beach to the house. You may join me in the villa when you are ready. I will have hot drinks for you, I expect you're cold down there." She laughed again.

"Damn right it's cold," muttered Casino. The wet material of his shorts was flapping against the top of his leg in the slight breeze, accentuating the chill. The other three seemed unaffected, or were more of a stoic disposition.

Chief led the way across the gritty sand and found the rough wooden doors that the woman had referred to. The right-hand door was unsecured and its hinges oiled so that it yielded easily when he pulled it open. The four slipped inside and closed the door behind them. It was warmer within, but still cold.

The Navajo felt carefully around until his probing hand encountered the torch. Even though shielded, to the men's dark-accustomed eyes the torch was producing a good amount of light.

As promised there were towelling bathrobes hanging neatly on a row of hooks and a shelf unit contained a stack of towels. Underneath the towels were pairs of espadrille-type canvas beach shoes. Presumably the boat house was used as a changing room for those swimming from the beach.

Casino grabbed robe and towel, stripped off the claggy underwear and briskly towelled himself dry. "What?" he asked, challengingly.

Garrison just smiled. He knew his safecracker had no issues about his body, and the man did have a point. There wasn't much point in getting the robes wet, and he doubted their hostess would appreciate them sitting on her sofas in wet and salty clothing. The robes went on, the shorts were dropped and, rather more discretely than the New Yorker, both the Lieutenant and Diesel joined Casino in their mode of dress.

"You better hope there's no wind blowin' outside when you go up those stairs," advised Chief. Even though he'd lived with these men for nearly a year he had issues over nakedness, a legacy of his time in jail that would never leave him. He knew they were right, but he waited until he'd ascended the stone steps to the cliff top before shedding his own wet clothing.

Following the restricted beam of the torch, the four tracked a narrow pathway from the top of the low cliff until it reached a cream-painted villa, accessed via a short flight of balustraded stone steps. In the dim light of the torch, that was all that could currently be seen.

Garrison was the first to open the pair of doors at the top of the stairs. He walked into a small foyer cloaked with blackout curtains, waited till the other three had joined him and Diesel had quietly shut the doors behind them, before pulling the curtains to one side. They found themselves in a large, double-height marble-floored room. It was furnished with red velvet sofas and a number of occasional tables. A staircase in one corner climbed to a second storey balcony behind which were a number of wooden doors.

The woman who had greeted them on the beach was sitting on one of the small sofas, casually thumbing through a magazine. She stood as the men came into the room, revealing that she was wearing a full-length emerald green satin dressing gown. Shoulder-length, wavy auburn hair hung loose framing her face. She was probably in her mid-forties, but it was hard to tell./p

Her eyes scanned the men standing in front of her, clearly appreciating what she saw. Her expression changed though when she focused on the Lieutenant. "Craig? Is it you caro?" She sounded both unsure, but pleased.

"Francesca." A small smile played across his lips as he recognised the woman standing in front of him. She raised her right hand, inviting the Lieutenant to kiss the back of it.

Holding the bathrobe firmly secured with one hand to prevent it from revealing more than he was comfortable with, Craig bent over and touched his lips to the proffered fingers.

"Gentlemen, it is late. I for one am ready for my bed." To confirm the point a clock on one of the side tables chimed two. "The spare rooms are behind the doors above me. There is coffee on the side table, I will see for you breakfast in the morning. Come caro, we have much to talk about." Francesca collected Garrison's hand in her own and led him away towards her private quarters. He did not fight her, but he did look back at his men with a slightly panicked expression.

Casino looked at Chief and Diesel. He had seen the look, but was unsure what to do. "D'you think he needs rescuing?"

Chief shrugged. The Warden might have an uncomfortable time of things, and would sure get ribbed, but he doubted it would be fatal.

"Nah, I'm sure he's got matters well in hand," added Diesel, laughing.

A movement on the mezzanine balcony caught Chief's attention. A man had moved into view - tall, distinguished, wearing a burgundy smoking jacket and dark grey trousers. Diesel followed the direction of Chief's gaze and froze when he identified the figure in the shadows. "Monaco?"

"Lupo." The man on the balcony nodded minutely and tipped his head in acknowledgement. He then turned abruptly and made his way via the connecting staircase into the parlour. He was smiling slightly as he joined the other three, who were all now feeling rather underdressed. "I had been planning on joining you for a chat, but since I see Francesca has abducted your Lieutenant I think I should show you to your rooms instead and we can speak in the morning." Monaco started to lead the way, then had another thought. "There are private facilities in each room and the towel rails are heated so your clothes should be dry by morning."

"Lupo?" Chief murmured, raising an eyebrow.

Diesel smiled, but didn't explain.

GG GG GG GG

Comfortable beds, clean sheets, peace and quiet and no alarm clocks meant that no-one woke early the next day, even Chief. He was the first downstairs and took the opportunity to explore the house. Someone had been up before him and had thrown open the shutters to reveal a panoramic view of the ocean. Outside the sun was shining, sparkling off the water like diamonds. Adjacent to the large parlour was a dining room laid out with a selection of meats, cheeses and breads. A pot of coffee was keeping warm above a small burner and he helped himself to a cup of the brew whilst he continued his exploration. The kitchen and a laundry room occupied a semi-basement, but of staff there was no sight. Whoever had prepared the house that morning had been and gone.

Returning to the dining room for a refill of coffee he found Diesel already helping himself to some of the pastries. "Not bad for a safe-house, is it? Wish they were all like this."

Chief smiled. You'd never know they were behind enemy lines and there was a war going on out there. "Was the Warden holdin' out on us? Think he knew who was replacing Actor?"

"I'm sure did." Monaco had entered the room without either man hearing him, which was a feat in itself. "Someone in London has been pulling a few strings, I think, and I have my suspicions as to who that might be." Hayter's ex-conman drifted to the table and fastidiously picked up a few morsels and chewed them.

Diesel was intrigued as to how Monaco had been 'acquired' for their mission. "What happened to you back in Normandy? Last I saw you were heading for Spain in the company of those Resistance guys?"

"I ran out of money," replied Monaco. "The Bosch were making life very difficult for the escape routes. I got as far as Perpignan but couldn't pay for papers or pay the guides, so made my way to the casino in Marseille."

"They caught you cheating?"

"Not quite. Let's say the manager took exception to the extent of my winnings and sent some heavies to apply a little pressure."

"The fact you're here to tell the tale says who won that little battle," commented Diesel, laughing as he helped himself to another pastry. They really were rather good.

"That is true, but it turned out I had someone to help me. There was a man in the casino that night who recognised me. He was part of the team that did our initial training in Canada, the British SBS man."

Diesel nodded, remembering clearly the man Monaco was talking about.

"I think he told someone in London I'd surfaced again and where I could be found. A couple of days later I was approached by someone from the British SIS who suggested I might like to work for them and I had no option but to agree. The terms are much better than we had before, a little bit of light spying in return for my parole."

Knowing Monaco as well as he did, Diesel knew the Italian was playing down the danger of the job he was doing, but he wasn't about to say anything.

"So how much did they pay you to do this one?" queried Chief, now happily ensconced by the patio doors. He wasn't worrying about anything at the moment - he had food, coffee and a good view. On days like these, life was pretty good.

"Purely my sense of duty, young Chief." Monaco was pleased he'd been able to remember the Indian's name even though he'd only met him the once, five months earlier.

Diesel laughed. "Did Francesca throw you out of her bed when she saw the alternative on offer."

Monaco tried to look offended, but the Mohawk was pretty close to the truth.

"We have been friends for many years," the conman finally admitted. "We moved in the same social circles before I left Europe. She and her husband were quite the handsome Society couple, but they were not close. He had many mistresses that he liked to flaunt. She found it degrading."

"She know the Warden from some time in the past?" Chief was intrigued. The Lieutenant kept his private life just that. If he had someone in the UK they'd not found out about her yet.

"So I understand. She apologised to me this morning, before she left for Rome, for being remiss in her social obligations and abducting 'her Craig'. From what she said they met in New York when the Lieutenant was about eighteen. I understand she was keen to see how his education had progressed." Monaco tried and failed to keep the grin from his face as he enlightened the two Indians.

Footsteps on the marble floor outside put paid to any further conversations on the topic as first Casino, then shortly afterwards Garrison arrived. Casino headed straight for the buffet and dug in like a starving man, not acknowledging the other three in the room. Garrison paused in the doorway as six eyes met his.

"What?"

"Nuthin' Warden, just nuthin'," answered Chief, a big grin on his face. He pulled out his switchblade and gave it his full attention.

"Well just keep it that way." Garrison made his way to the rapidly emptying table and grabbed a few items.

Having missed the conman's explanation, Casino looked at Chief and Diesel in puzzlement, but neither were forthcoming. Oh well, he'd get Chiefy to fill him in later.

"Will Francesca be joining us this morning?" asked Diesel innocently, sending Chief into paroxysms of silent laughter.

"Knock it off, Diesel. We had a lot to talk about, that's all... No, she's on her way back to Rome now. It's New Year's Eve tonight in case you hadn't noticed and she's hosting a big party for some Nazi big wigs."

That got Casino's attention. "She's a collaborator?"

"No, Casino, she's a society hostess. Her husband was a Fascist and a good friend of Mussolini. She comes by a lot of important information that finds its way back to London. She's a very valuable asset."

"Where's the husband now?"

"Dead."

"Oh."

"Right. If we've finished with discussing how I spent the night, how about we get on with our own mission. I can see you've all met Monaco again. Anybody not happy with working with him on this one?" Garrison waited a moment. "In that case, fill up your coffee cups and come on through to the other room. We've a mission to plan."

"If you're sure you're not too tired, Warden." Casino always had to have the last word.