MEANWHILE IN ITALY
A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.
Thanks to Professor Voodoo|Genco Ribisi, theprodigalson|Nikias and Anastasia, and MP5|Allison and Brian, for the loan of their fan-characters.
CH19 – The Shipping News
Shutting off dim headlights, Genco Ribisi shivered slightly before reaching forward to kill the two-cylinder clatter emanating from his car's rear, taking a moment to savour the silence left behind before pulling keys from its metal dashboard. Classic motoring was all well and good in summer, but for the winter pre-dawn commute a few modcons, like working heating, would not go at all astray. Setting a scarf more firmly around his neck with a heavily gloved hand, the young analyst let himself out into the courtyard's morning chill.
Locking the little Fiat's door, he did a quick count: roof closed, quarter lights closed, he gave the delicate metal handle one more cautious tug before walking around the other side to test its twin there... doors locked. That would do, if anyone could get the thing started and out the SWA's front gate without him, then best of luck to them.
Shoving hands into his tweed jacket's large pockets he hurried quickly across the administration block park, huddling deeper into thick woollen folds draped around his neck. Ahead, the building's front entry was well lit, giving the twenty-four hour guard inside a good view of anyone approaching, and plenty of time to react should they do something untoward. Fumbling in a pocket with thickly padded fingers for his ID, Genco swiped himself in, giving the man a nod as he went past, shoes clicking on terrazzo floors. Similarly patterned stairs behind sent him up a storey, soles falling into indents worn by previous centuries of occupants, and up again to turn down a narrow corridor between outer windows and glazed, full height partitioning. Even this early he was not the first one here, lights already burning inside Section 2's small intelligence hub, venetian blinds casting their zebra shadows across frosted glass. Partway along a hardwood and glass door, obviously lifted from somewhere else in the building, presented itself and, peering briefly through letters cut into its similarly blanked window, he swung it open.
While the lights may have been on, only one or two other bodies were scattered amongst ancient wooden desks, the usual early arrivals turning to bid him a good morning as he threaded his way through the maze of paper and hanging cable runs.
Reaching his own workstation, the young analyst set his computer booting before stripping off scarf and jacket to hang both from the chair back so he could remove the heavy, ribbed jumper from underneath.
He only got halfway, before pausing to first divest himself of the slender shoulder holster sitting over tight-wound woollen knit: a recent addition, and one he was still getting used to.
"You really don't need that."
Turning around, Genco found a stocky form standing behind him, empty coffee cup held in one paw.
"And good morning to you as well Benito..." he glanced down at the 9mm corto Beretta nestled on one palm, "...well it's not just me I'm putting in danger anymore is it? Can't hurt."
"Leave it alone, you'll get yourself into more trouble with that thing than without. Coffee?"
Eyes darted back to where his computer was still booting up. "Umm... sure, just let me..."
"I'll meet you over there."
Then the other man was gone, leaving Genco to watch his retreating figure with a slight sigh of relief: Benito Bortolussi was not a bad sort, and a good data man, but his ministrations were something that could be done without at this time of the morning.
Folding the jumper neatly, he placed the 1934 pistol between wool layers before slipping both into a desk draw, struggling momentarily with rough wood sliders before it jerked home with a clap, God help him should he ever need the thing in a hurry.
For that matter, it would really help to put in some practice as well.
Now down to shirt sleeves, the analyst re-donned his jacket, before leaning forward to enter user name and password, which should give him just enough time to get a coffee before the computer finished logging in.
Turning away, he made for the small kitchenette, hidden behind still darkened glass walls of Priscilla's office. Seemingly his boss had not yet arrived, though she could also not be far off and, rounding the corner he found Benito already twisting the espresso machine's brew head into place, a steel jug in the other hand.
Talk first, don't let the other set the conversation.
"So how are you coming along chasing photos?"
There was a rumble and hiss of steam as the machine went to work, matched by the other man's sound of disgust. "Getting nowhere, I guarantee you whatever was taken during the whole sniper debacle's been long copied and distributed far and wide. Best we can do is figure out who got seen."
Collecting a clean cup, Genco rinsed it quickly under the sink's tap. "That's still better than nothing, at least we'll know who's at risk."
"Yeah, so we can start deploying fratelli again. Problem is, the longer the brass hold them back to keep them safe, the longer we're short warm bodies to do the leg work, so the longer chasing the data takes, and so they continue to hold everyone on campus. Then the cycle repeats." A pause and sideways glance. "They should have kept the Blackers back to help out, this would be right up their alley... where are they at these days?"
The younger analyst carefully ignored the last bit of that sentence. "Don't think they could, keep them back I mean."
"Nice for some." Extracting his cup again, Benito poured freshly steamed milk over the shot inside, swirling both to mix them then, setting the jug down, stepped back. "All yours."
With that he was gone again, leaving Genco to give another little sigh of relief before knocking the used brew head free. Extracting the other's puck he rinsed the bowl out before setting about an espresso, which was carried back to his desk, machine behind cleaned and ready for its next user.
Time to start the day.
By now the Agency's paranoid servers had finally let his computer join them, and taking a sip of coffee he mentally ran through where he had left off the previous evening. Not exciting work, but better he do it than those in the field…
...speaking of whom, he could think of something else to delay re-entering the drudge.
Another moment ensured he was physically disconnected from the Agency's secure network, and the young man opened up his web-browser, typing in the address for a high-end watch-blog. It had been a day or two since he checked for a drop marker here, strict instructions directing he not form a pattern of visits, that he be a casual viewer.
Which was fine: this was at least easier than looking for chalk on letterboxes.
Resisting an urge to read articles, he scrolled through each comments section, taking another sip of coffee as he did so, feeling it start to warm him up again… and there it was, a guest response posted two days previous, correct wording: the Blackers had something for the SWA.
Closing the browser to open up a clean window, he typed in another, much more obscure address, and set the file there downloading. Priscilla would need informing he was moving on to other things when she got in, but those were his instructions: drop decodes came first, as did reading and sorting of the information within.
Sipping again, he gave a small smile: for a junior analyst, he had managed to fall into a role which made this cold commute very much worthwhile.
Lying prone behind her rifle, Raych shivered. In front the long range stretched away, its targets given a fresh lick of paint and re-shuffled in their positions, again, behind gently falling snow, but that was not the cause of her discomfort. Twisting her head sideways a little, she glanced at Danilo, also lying quiet. She didn't want to mess this up, she couldn't mess this up, what would people think of Danilo if she messed this up? It was like going through her VdCO again... but she had passed that, had she not? Maybe this would be like the other girls said the VdCO was: a formality, but…
Head twitching the other direction she looked up the firing line embankment, and shivered again. At its far end stood Ms. Asti and, around her, four SRT commandoes. At least, she thought they were SRT commandoes, she only recognised one… but if caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi was here, that meant the others had to be from the SRT as well did it not?
Caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi was faced away from her, but amongst the little huddle he shifted weight and she quickly returned her gaze to the range. Why were the SRT here? Was not Ms. Asti going to be running their assessment? She had been teaching them after all... but then Soni was not here today either.
"Your attention please!" Raych's head snapped around again at the sound of Ms. Asti's voice. The huddle had broken now, SRT members lined up behind the female handler.
When had they got there? She did not remember hearing them move.
Ms. Asti, however, was still talking. "Welcome to your first assessment, this is the one we will use to determine who might find it worthwhile continuing on, and who will move back to their original roles." The woman's eyes swept across her trainees, and Raych tried not to flinch as they rested on her. "Today's running will be very simple: I'll call out a fratello and a target. Once you are assigned a target, you will have a minute to make your first shot. If you miss, you will have ten seconds to make a successful follow up. Each pair will get ten targets, and you will need eight kills or better to pass." A brief pause. "Since I have been working with you all week, Giorgio has been kind enough to provide independent assessors, one each. Nikias and Anastasia, you will be assessed by..."
Eight kills or better, eight out of ten... she did not know if she had achieved that or not for Danilo in the past. Had she? She had not counted, but she had gotten better at this, she was better than when she started, she was sure of that. Surely she could manage eight.
But could she, really? Ice started to form in her stomach: she did not know. She really did not know. What if she couldn't make eight? What would happen then? If she failed this what would happen then? Danilo had threatened to recondition her before, he had not mentioned it recently though, but if she failed here then maybe... she did not want to be reconditioned. She was getting better, she knew she was getting better...
"...Danilo and Raych," the mention of her handler brought the girl back to the present, in time to realise she was trembling, "Giorgio will be looking after you."
She caught her breath and her head snapped around again. The other SRT men were moving toward their assigned charges, and her heart fell farther still as the familiar form of caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi sidled toward her position, a clipboard and binoculars under one heavily jacketed arm, close cropped hair covered by a black beanie.
But caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi hated her, did not Ms. Asti know that caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi hated her?
But she had passed her VdCO with him.
Raych glanced quickly away from the approaching man, back toward her own handler. Danilo did not look happy either, was he unhappy about caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi as well? Or was it something she had done? She hoped not. She had not done anything wrong yet had she?
"Seems we're making a habit of this." Caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi's voice came from behind, but the cyborg kept looking doggedly out across the range, frozen in place.
"Seems like," that was Danilo, "how have you been, Giorgio?"
"Fine, and I'll be better still for getting back somewhere warm quickly."
There was no reply, the conversation fizzling out. They had nothing to say to each other. Had she annoyed caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi by not looking around? She hoped he was not annoyed. Besides, Danilo had answered him had he not?
She had passed her VdCO with caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi. She hoped she could pass this.
"Shooters ready!"
Ms. Asti's loud, clear words cut through her thoughts, helping focus her again, and the girl added her voice to the chorus of affirmatives.
"Good! Range is live! We'll work left to right, so that's you first Stavropoulos." A slight pause. "Nikias and Anastasia! Target Whiskey!"
Raych did not move, she did not dare move, not with her assessor behind her, not if it might annoy him. She had to do this right, she had to make Danilo proud.
The snap of a rifle informed her Ana had fired, and she waited with baited breath for the ring of a round on steel.
One second, two...
"Miss."
The voice was soft but deep, carrying clearly down the line. Now she did look around as a large, African-featured man, binoculars to his eyes behind the farthest fratello, started to count down from ten.
Ana had missed, but if Ana had missed, then how would she, Raych, fare?
Another report, and then the ring of steel.
"Hit!"
A hit, a hit was good. A little of the tension left her now: Ana had made the second shot... but she had still missed the first, and she was the closest in skill level to Raych, and if Ana had missed, where did that leave her? What if she missed the first shot? Could she make the follow-up in time? Even if Danilo made corrections early, she would still have to dial them in, she did not know if she could in time, she would have to work fast. Now her heart was pounding, and she willed it to slow, trying to still shaking hands. She had to be ready, had to work fast, had to do exactly as Danilo ordered the moment he ordered it.
"Danilo and Raych!" The cyborg's ears pricked up, was it their turn already? But she did not remember hearing... "Target Echo!"
Target Echo, she had to find target Echo.
Glancing over the top her he scope she swept an eye quickly across the field, locating it quickly: a close one, an easy one.
"C. Raych, front right."
"Yes, Danilo."
Now with orders she swung her rifle around to line it up in her crosshairs, the steel filling her optic.
"C. Raych, come up one eighth from centre of mass and fire."
Laying in the adjustment she aligned her crosshair again. Breathe in, hold and...
The rifle kicked, its motion followed almost immediately by the sound of her shot hitting home.
"Hit!"
She had done it! She had landed the shot, exactly as Danilo had told her to. She could do this, she could, even caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi had passed her once before. She could do this.
"C. Raych, zero your scope."
"Yes, Danilo."
Reaching up she wound the elevation knob back as another report issued from up the line. Her heart was no longer hammering so hard now, and she felt the control click into its neutral position. All she had to do was follow Danilo's instructions and she would be fine, and always remember to check her scope was zeroed. He had told her to do that every time, she just had to remember. She could do this.
Still motionless, Raych waited.
"Danilo and Raych, target X-Ray!"
Target X-Ray, she had to find target X-Ray.
This time it was not so close, instead mounted midway up the range, atop a low embankment. This one would be harder, but she could do this and, as Danilo gave her its location, she swung her MSG90 toward it. She could do this, she knew she could do this. Her adjustments came and were laid in. Breathe, hold, squeeze.
The rifle kicked and...
...nothing.
"Miss!" Giorgio's voice delivered the news emotionlessly. "Ten seconds! Nine, eight..."
Danilo would give her new instructions, he would.
"...seven, six..."
He would.
"...five..."
"C. Raych," her handler's words were rushed, "right half, up a quarter."
Reaching forward quickly she wound the dials to new positions.
"...two, one..."
No time to aim properly, no time to breathe. Centre her crosshairs and squeeze.
No ring of steel returned to her.
"Miss!" Giorgio's words caused the girl's heart to plummet. "That's strike number one."
She had missed, she had done as Danilo said, exactly as Danilo said, but she had missed. Danilo would have to be furious, she did not dare look at him. She would have to do better, she could do better. She would have to work faster.
She had to be worthy of her handler. She would be worthy of her handler.
She did not want to be reconditioned.
Ms. Asti continued her cycle, ending on Raych each time before returning back up the line as, behind their charges, the SRT commandoes scribbled away. More shots, more hits, some even on the first try. Then...
"Miss! That's the second one."
Raych's heart skipped a beat at Giorgio's words. Again, she had missed again. She had been getting better, making hits, but she had missed now. That was two, she only had one miss left. How many shots had she taken so far? She did not know, she had not been counting, Danilo would have been counting, but she did not dare ask him.
"You're only halfway C. Raych, make the rest perfect."
The words caught her off guard, and it took a moment to answer.
"Umm, yes... Danilo. They will be, Danilo."
"And zero your scope."
"Yes Danilo."
Only halfway? She was on her last chance and they were only halfway? She had to be perfect now... but what if she was not? What if she missed again? What would Danilo do? Would the reconditioning threat really come true? She could feel herself starting to shake again, palms sweaty inside high-tech Gore-Tex and Thinsulate gloves as she clicked her optic's controls back to neutral once more. She could not miss again, she couldn't, Danilo would never forgive her if she failed here.
Gripping her rifle tighter, she waited for the next instruction. Unlike the other times, this one seemed to take an eternity to arrive. She tried to still her body, she could not shoot if she were shaking like this. Be still.
Waiting silently the cold gripped her once again, distracting, seeping through the outer layers of her jacket and touching moisture on her hands to turn thick fingers into individual icicles. She could not move though, could not work some warmth back into them, she had to be ready.
"Danilo and Raych..."
She caught her breath, this was it.
"...target India!"
Target India.
She found it quickly, two thirds of the way back, and Danilo's confirmation came moments later so she could swing crosshairs once more into position, squeezing the pistol grip tighter in her hand to stop incessant shivers. She could not miss this time. She had to be perfect, Danilo had said to be perfect.
"C. Raych, come up three mils, right half."
"Yes, Danilo."
Reaching forward she carefully dialled the adjustments in. She had to be perfect. Had to be.
Realign crosshairs over the target, breathe in, hold.
The rifle kicked, its crack echoing back to her... but with no ring accompanying it.
"Miss! Ten seconds! Nine, eight..."
She had missed. She had missed again... not perfect. She still had ten seconds though, Danilo would give her a correction, she would get it on the second shot.
"C. Raych, come right another half mil."
Reaching forward she dialled it in. Perfect, she had to be perfect... she was shaking again.
"...three, two..."
Re-centre, breathe, squeeze.
The stock slammed back into her shoulder once more. She had to hit, she had to. She did not want to be reconditioned.
"Miss! That's strike number three."
The words took a moment to register but, as they did, Raych could feel the bottom fall out of her world, plummeting away. It was over. She had missed, she was supposed to hit, she had followed Danilo's instructions, and she had still missed.
Danilo would be furious.
She did not dare look at him, instead locking eyes forward down the range. She had failed, failed Danilo, in front of everyone... Maybe it would be for the best if she were reconditioned, if she just went away and became someone else.
But she had been getting better, she had been. She didn't want to lose that, didn't want to lose the friends she had made: Kara, Chiara... From beside her came a rustle of movement, then the voice of caporalmaggiore capo Bianchi again, firm and cold.
"Stay where you are, finish the set."
Three more targets came and went, but they meant nothing now, she was just going through the motions. Danilo was not saying anything beyond direct instructions either and, as they started to pack up, she kept her eyes firmly down. She did not dare look at him, did not dare look at anyone. She had failed, she had failed Danilo, she could not face any of them. Even if she was not reconditioned she had failed here, there was no way she would be sent on a mission ever again.
She was useless.
Somewhere she was vaguely aware of Ms. Asti calling her trainees and, eyes still downcast, followed her handler toward the voice, rifle clutched tightly as if it could somehow protect her from the inevitable.
"Well, the scores are in." Ms. Asti's voice was upbeat, how could she be so upbeat at a time like this? "Three of the four of you will be continuing on, though some just by the skin of their teeth... Stavropoulos." There was a pause, as the woman drew another breath. "Danilo, Raych. I'm sorry to say this is the end here for you, you will return to your regular duties. The retraining was always going to be something of an experiment, so don't take it too hard. You're free to go, or stick around while I fill the others in on the next stage of training. Up to you."
There was a moment's pause.
"Come on C. Raych."
Not saying anything more, Raych fell in behind Danilo as he turned back toward the embankment stairs, wordless until his Lexus was once more headed back toward the rest of the compound. She had failed him, again, but he did not seem angry. That was worrying, and he had not said anything to her. Was he angry? Maybe she should...
"Umm... I am sorry, Danilo."
"Don't be."
"But..."
"I said don't be sorry Raych, now be quiet."
She closed her mouth again. 'Don't be sorry'? But she had failed, failed him, she had to be sorry. Ice started to creep again through her gut. Did that mean Danilo had made up his mind already? Did it mean she was going to be reconditioned? He had not said anything more, like she was not even there, like she had ceased to exist... maybe it would be better if she did.
But she did not want to.
Ahead, the cyborg dormitory loomed and, exiting the car empty-handed, Raych made her way slowly up stone steps and toward its entrance, eyes still fixed on the ground. Everyone would know by now, would they not? They would know that she was no-longer worthy of her handler, and she did not want to have to look anyone in the eye if they knew. If she could not serve her handler, then she would not be able to go on missions, she would have no purpose, she may as well be reconditioned... and if she were to be, it would be better that everyone just forget her.
Pushing through into the slate-floored foyer she barely registered warm air washing over her, or a small figure standing in the entrance of the generation one corridor.
"Hello Raych. You are back... early?"
Head swivelling, Chiara watched as her friend continued past, giving no acknowledgement on the way through, and up stairs toward her own floor. Seemingly not all had gone well at the elder cyborg's assessment, which would probably explain the early return. Pausing for a moment to weigh options, the slender gen one moved silently off in her wake, carpeted stairs muffling soft footfalls.
By the time she reached their peak the hallway beyond was empty, and she moved stealthily along it to arrive at Raych's door. Briefly placing one ear against cool woodwork, she knocked quietly and pushed the room open.
Inside was empty, empty except for a lumpen mass laying face down on one bed, still fully dressed, quiet sobs muffled by the pillow into bare audibility, and Chiara paused another moment.
"Are you okay?"
Nothing.
Holding one more second, the girl withdrew again, closing up quietly. From below, she could hear the sound of voices approaching up the stairs, followed shortly by the tall forms of Allison and Petra. Pausing to look curiously at the younger cyborg in front of their sister's door, questions started to form on their lips as Chiara shook her head, a finger held up to quell any inquiry.
Fortunately the others got the message, walking past in silence, their eyes though no less curious. Watching them go, she waited for another second then, coming to a decision, lowered herself to the ground, sitting back against Raych's door.
Sometimes, what people really needed, were silence and space.
Sitting in his room, chair drawn up to the desk, Danilo ran another swab through the MSG90's barrel, watching it come out clean: that should just about do it then. Pausing, he took another sip from the whiskey glass resting beside his work, before leaning over to look again at the manual.
Well, on the upside, he wouldn't need to deal with this fucking thing again, and the sooner the better.
He had been tempted, sorely tempted, to simply dump his issue rifle at the armoury as was and let them deal with it, but some things were just not done, however appealing they may be. Instead, after dropping Raych off, he had pulled his car's load cover across its boot and made tracks from Agency soil as quickly as possible. He needed silence, and space, time to think and cool off.
Now it was dark, and he was back, though the burning fury had still not entirely vacated his system.
Well fuck them, fuck them all. He had said the whole exercise was doomed to failure from the start, and he had been right, that at least he could take some minor comfort in. Re-training had been a shit idea to begin with, and if the brass were intent on pushing a bad plan, then was not his fault when the whole thing fell apart. Not his fault, and it sure as hell was not C. Raych's fault either, especially not when, to make a bad deal worse, the SWA had seemed intent on throwing up every conceivable roadblock it could throughout the process.
Sliding the rifle's final component into place, he smacked it home viciously with the palm of his hand. He had found a way of dealing with C. Raych, developed it, one that circumvented the medical team's screw-ups to make her at least useable. No, it was not a popular one, but it worked, and trying to change that in under a week was just outright lunacy, not to mention being forced into joining the luddites: don't do things the easy way, or the fast way, no, do them the hard way, but still do it quickly... and then, to cap it all off, he had been given Giorgio as an assessor. It was pretty fucking obvious to anyone paying attention the man had not been happy at C. Raych's VdCO, and seemingly he had been carrying a chip around on his shoulder ever since. It was bad enough letting that bias into play to start with, but it was distracting for the cyborg as well, made her nervous, and how the fuck was she supposed to perform with that sort of pressure looming over her?
Lifting the reassembled MSG90 from his glass desktop, Danilo set it down by the wall: nearly midnight, too late now to go taking it back, that would have to wait until morning.
Well, if they were going to set him up to fail, then fuck them. Maybe this way someone would finally get the message, finally work out that if you gave someone a job, the most effective way to use them was to let them get on with it, rather than changing their purpose every two seconds. He had never been employed as a sniper, he was a commando, a fighter and...
There was a buzz from the table. Eyes shifting, they fell on his phone vibrating its way across the smooth glazing toward freedom, a name flashing on its screen.
Jean.
Giving it another moment, Danilo slugged back the rest of his drink, before picking the mobile up and swiping to answer.
"Olivetti."
"Danilo, Jean. I'm giving you notice that you're now on mission standby. Initial briefing is at zero-seven-hundred tomorrow in meeting room one, and you can expect to deploy sometime in the next day or so. Start getting yourself and your cyborg kitted out and ready to leave as soon as ordered."
Still holding the device to his ear, Danilo considered his next words. He really should not, but he was past the point of caring, and the jab still slipped its way out. "Sniper? Or CQB role?"
There was a moment's silence from the other end, the field commander probably finding his own retort.
"You flunked the sniper course, so CQB. Ferro will contact you shortly with more details. Is that clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Good."
With that the other man hung up, leaving Danilo to drop the phone from the side of his head and study it in his hand: well that had been fast, presumably being out of the re-stream had put him back on the active roster. What it sounded like though, was that his 'redundant' role was not so redundant after all. That was just perfect, not only had his time been wasted with that sniper shit, but he had suffered the humiliation of failure also for absolutely no reason whatsoever.
Very much, fuck them.
Placing his own mobile down under the glow of a desk lamp, Jean Croce looked across at the two people opposite and gave a small grimace. "That's Olivetti warned and onboard."
From her chair, Priscilla eyed him back. "How did Fio take him failing today?"
"I don't think she was happy about it but, as she said, it probably saved her having to wash him out later anyway for being mentally ill-suited."
Silence fell again as that statement was contemplated. Asti was probably right in her assessment: the dynamic the man had set up between him and his charge had proven a decidedly poor match to sniping, or anything else requiring the cyborg to take initiative for that matter. Unfortunately, that also limited his operational usefulness...
Still, he was here now, and had been issued his cyborg, so they had best find something for him to do.
Clearing his throat, the field commander moved on, shifting his gaze again back to Section Two's intelligence superintendent. "So where are we regarding the Blackers' ship?"
Glancing down, the woman consulted her own notes, posted to a clipboard. "Right now Genco is still going through Monty's data-packet to see if there is anything else which may relate to Anagnos Dragon... though she is usually pretty organised with these things, so I doubt there will be much more to find."
"That's a good thing too," now Jean's focus shifted to Ferro, seated beside her colleague, "she hasn't exactly given us a big window with this one to get organised."
"And shipping schedules have never been the most reliable things either," added Priscilla. "I would say the full day in port might help, but I doubt there will be much of interest for us to find after the first few hours. Section One are mobilising as we speak, and should be able to start getting eyes on Genoa's container facility tomorrow in case Dragon arrives early. As soon as she pulls in, they'll know." Now she gave a grimace. "Ideally I would prefer to leave Section One's collective noses out of this but..."
"...but we don't have the useable manpower yet to spare extra fratelli," finished Jean.
"Giorgio couldn't give us anyone?"
That was Ferro again, however the query got another headshake. "Not enough to have the SRT running point as well; not with Giorgio also helping plug operational gaps down here."
"Small team then?"
"Yes."
Now the support manager studied her own notes. "So that means we need to allow for potentially four..."
"Five, one spokesman, if we can't use a handler."
"...potentially five SRT personnel, plus you and Rico, Danilo and Raych."
"We'll know more once Section One get there, but I will probably be wanting at least one extra fratello as well, most likely Gaetano as he seems to have a reasonable handle on Olivetti..."
"Could we use him for spokesman?"
"Possibly... the fratelli can do the journey in their own vehicles too, so it's just the SRT who will need transport."
"Own vehicles or no, I still have to find them beds." Ferro's look was unimpressed, and she tapped her pen on the page. "I have one logistics officer assigned full time to this already, but it is still going to be a push."
Beside her however, Priscilla's expression had become thoughtful. "You know, if the Blackers are correct, and Anagnos Dragon is really servicing the same conduit Anasetti's weapons came in on, there's a decent chance Anasetti's controller will be present... or at least someone with access to him." She glanced across at Jean. "It might be worth sending Hilshire and Triela along as well, not as active participants in raiding Dragon, but to watch the outside and see if their own mark turns up."
Letting the silence hang another moment, Jean leaned back in his chair, arms folded to study the woman opposite.
"That's more usable cybernetic assets than would really like to commit, and they're already slated elsewhere..."
"...but?"
"...but it would be nice to finally wring some positive news out of this whole Roman Sniper mess, and Hilshire sounded in a hurry to get back sooner rather than later." He paused again. "I'll think about it, but at the very least it would be worth getting him in the same room as Ribisi to see if anything the Blackers sent through looks familiar."
"I'll keep Genco on it then."
"Do."
Beginning to stand, the senior analyst glanced between her two colleagues. "If that's all you need me for, I'll be getting back to check up on the boys and girls."
Jean raised questioning eyebrows at the be-suited support manager across his desk, who shook her head. "I'm done with her. What I do need though is to go through the initial equipment list. I realise we will know more tomorrow, but I want to get the big items underway now. We're short time, and it's easier to take things out later than try add them at the last minute."
Giving Priscilla a nod, the SWA's field commander watched as she made an exit, before pulling his chair closer the desk so he could lean over to read the heavy diary Ferro placed between them as she began to speak.
"Hilshire and Triela, yes or no?"
"For now, assume they're coming."
"If you could finalise names and numbers by tomorrow that would help immensely." Now the short haired woman leaned over her book as well, quickly scribbling a note before continuing. "So, so far we need accommodation and somewhere to stage from, preferably with an out of sight space for vehicles, but on short notice I'll have to take what I can get. Transport for SRT personnel... that can probably do double duty as a raid platform, one of the Transits. What else? Port access?"
"Yes... and while you're at it, see if Genoa requires any additional clearances to get into their container facility. I would prefer not to brute force it if possible." Jean gave her a chance to jot down another note. "Cover wise, the SRT will go in under GIS or Guardia di Finanza guise, but if the cyborgs have to engage we will want some way to block any cameras or secure the tapes afterward. I don't think the technical branch's masking software can deal with more than two faces yet..."
"...or is even suitable for a raid. I'll find out what system the port uses and run our standard options against it otherwise, if those don't work, we will have to make sure to secure any recordings. Moving on..."
It was going to be a long couple of days.