This chapter's a plug for my buddy, Sintendo. Those who've read his hilarious The Lighter Side (accessible from the 'Favorite Stories' list on my author's profile) will understand what I mean – if not, I insist that you check it out first. It's a marvelous read.
la follia comincia
"Our success at eradicating the terrorist outfit based in Provincia di Belluno has not only eliminated the immediate chemical-weapons threat to Veneto's waterworks, but also yielded more good news," said Lorenzo with some pride.
"Do go on, sir," said Bernado, Beatrice standing attentively by his side.
"The substances in question – binary weapons primarily composed of synthetic fluoride derivatives – have a very distinctive signature to their make. Combined with a few off-hand comments that were found in the documents Section One retrieved last week, we've been able to draw reasonable conclusions regarding their manufacturer. Jean?"
"Noboru Matsumura – chemical expert and microbiologist, wanted in conjunction with 1995's sarin gas attack on Kasumigaseki Subway Station," said Jean, booting up a projector slide featuring four detailed photographs of the man in question. "Previously thought to be working with insurgent forces in Zaire, our information-gathering apparatus has presently pinpointed him as operating out of a resort near Capri's Marina Grande."
"Apparatus?" exclaimed an outraged Priscilla. "What in the blue –"
"The data Priscilla has obtained tells us that our mark stays there almost all the time, keeping company with no more than three bodyguards," interrupted Lorenzo loudly, in an obvious attempt to appease the female agent and keep things on track. Priscilla took the cue, muttering under her breath. "He's evidently grown complacent after evading capture for so long – a flaw that should make our mission against him a complete walkover."
"We've arranged for the resort to be empty and cordoned off at midnight, allowing for a team to be inserted without fuss," explained Jean, ignoring Priscilla's outburst. Turning to Bernado, he produced a portfolio containing complete floor plans for the relevant premises, along with specific details of the terrorist's living quarters. "That team will comprise you and Beatrice. Constantly bearing in mind that Japanese authorities have made clear their desire that Matsumura be detained unharmed, you are to –"
"Rico-Rico-bo-Bico-banana-fana-fo-Fico! Fee-mi-mo-Mico... Rico!"
Heads turned as Jean's fratello pirouetted into the room. A pair of little black 'muffs' trailed from her ears to her belt, onto which was clipped a credit card-sized device of matching color that boasted a four-way directional pad, nine buttons, a slider and a glowing screen. Round and round her supervisor did the little girl twirl, chanting the above nonsense lyrics and performing an absurd, disquieting dance before skipping out as suddenly as she came in.
"Explain," said Lorenzo quietly after a most pregnant pause.
"She's run out of names, Chief," said Bernado, breaking into a guffaw that he swiftly turned into a cough upon seeing Jean's face – the senior handler looked as though he was going to have a heart attack any second. Outwardly, Beatrice appeared as stoic as ever – although a closer examination would have revealed her lips to be abnormally pursed and her shoulders to be trembling. Priscilla's previously morose look was now that of a sommelier whose tastebuds had just been graced by the finest Tuscan sangiovese.
"Remind me to never again permit 'Secret Santas' to give our operatives presents at Christmas, sir – especially not Creative ZEN portable media players with software for peer-to-peer file sharing," grated Jean when he at last caught his breath back, white-knuckled hands clutching the table for support.
Through a red haze, he recalled the neatly typed, anonymous greeting cards that had come with the devices, in which the nameless philanthropist had expressed 'pity over how cloistered you children are from today's world,' and stated how the electronic contraptions were 'the pinnacle of modern hardware'.
"Aren't quarantines and secrecy enforced for a reason, and aren't our cyborgs supposed to be the very personifications of state-of-the-art technology?" Jean growled. "When I get my hands on that miscreant," his eyes wandered dangerously towards a beautifully-finished model Mercedes-Benz in 1:32 scale that sat on Lorenzo's mantle, "his colon's going to wish it had never been born."
"That'll be all, everyone," said the chief upon following Jean's stare, hurriedly turning off the projector and ushering his subordinates out before locking the door and stowing his prized possession away from vengeful minds and brutal hands.
On a grassy hillock some distance away, Hillshire was laughing fit to burst as he watched Lorenzo's office through a pair of Leica binoculars, observing Bernado and Beatrice hurry off as if in pain, Priscilla walk away with a spring in her step and Jean trudge wearily down the hallway in the direction of Dr. Bianchi's clinic. Olga looked on dispassionately, shaking her head.
"I know what you did, you naughty German sausage."