Young Offender, Part 13:
Three hours later they had pulled into Genoa. It was evening, but it was easy enough for Jet to raid clotheslines and find themselves some plain, linen shirts and pants. He brought a set of clothes for Albert and Ivan; he also brought a rugged blouse and burgundy skirt for Francoise.
She shoved their uniforms and ray guns into a burlap sack from the truck. Her eyes looked over to see Jet and Albert by the truck, their backs were to her. They had been watching out for her modesty while she changed clothes. Her mind was numb as she checked Jean-Paul's watch: one in the morning. She snapped it shut. Ivan sat up suddenly from the bed of the truck; that made her flinch. Albert and Jet came running over when they heard her cry out joyfully.
Francoise threw her arms around Ivan and held him close, rocking him slightly. "I thought you'd be asleep for another three weeks!"
"No, Francoise. I... I just overloaded, I didn't waste all my capital energy. Where are we?"
"Genoa," Jet answered.
"Excellent. We can sail to anywhere. Herr Heinrich, do you have a suggestion?" Ivan asked.
"I'll check where the ships are sailing."
Francoise laid her hand on his exposed metallic, right hand. "But you can't."
Albert clenched his hand and glowered at it; Francoise felt a wave of pity. Ivan suddenly moaned and doubled over.
"I'll go," Jet said, placing his hand on top of theirs and gripping them tightly. "Stay put. I speak the best Italian, anyway."
He jogged off into the dark, misty night. Ivan ducked behind the truck to change his clothing. All she could do was sit beside Albert in the cab of the truck. Ivan finished quickly and paced in front of the truck. The German man rolled down the window and lit a cigarette from a an old crumpled pack on the dashboard.
"He has a good heart," Albert said with a subtle, yet somber, smile. She nodded.
"He'll be back, just like he was earlier," Francoise confirmed with a matching smile. She patted his fleshy, left hand again and took a deep breath. "You know, he is trustworthy."
"I wish he trusted himself," Albert said in an irritated tone.
They were silent for several long minutes. Finally, Jet showed up and nearly ran into Ivan. Albert and Francoise slid out of the truck and waited for Jet to catch his breath. He was smiling.
Jet flung his hand towards the dark. Francoise could see outlines of large ships in the night. "I found two. One is this real choice cruise ship going strait to the Big Apple. Here..." He handed over a fist full of lire to Francoise. "I bagged us some bread while I was at it."
"Now say what you really meant," she said, looking at the money. She hated when Jet got excited, his American slang grew convoluted to the point she couldn't fathom a guess at what he meant.
He scowled, she'd castigated him for it before it. "I... stole... money," he said in exaggerated, slow French. This irritated her, but she wasn't rising to bait like she had many times before.
"You said two," Albert interrupted. Jet walked over to Albert, pulled a pair of thick, utility gloves from under his shirt, and handed them over. The German nodded and tugged them on; it was better than having his hand exposed.
"The other is a cargo ship headed towards Australia."
"Good. That's the one we take," Albert said.
"Climb it, Tarzan! I ain't getting on that stinkin' cargo ship!"
Francoise could see Albert's jaw tighten under the street light beside the truck. He and Jet were staring each other down. Ivan started whimpering and raking his fingers across his face. Artificial blood blossomed all over his cheeks and started trickling.
"Stop it and help him!" Francoise shouted, helping Ivan sit beside the parked truck. The two rushed over and knelt in front of him. His frantic clawing stopped, but Francoise still held his wrists, anyway. Ivan threw back his head and started giggling uncontrollably.
"Kid, stop freaking out. You'll bring the cops around," Jet demanded, looking over his shoulder. Eventually, Ivan reasserted control and took several deep breaths, but Francoise could tell it took a great effort.
"What's wrong, Ivan?" she asked.
"It seems my abilities are expanding, now that I'm in a body that can withstand more stress than an infant. I'm starting to experience all the emotions around me. They've been flooding my head since that fight. I can't control them, and I can't tell other's emotions from my own. It feels as if I have millions of people shouting inside my head all the time. It feels... so... horrible... and so good... all at the same time. People's thoughts... are just... so pale next to their emotions. I can't read minds any more." Ivan's eyes rolled back and he breathed, "Emotions are so delicious and scary. I can't process them at all."
"Aw crap! Is he fucked up now?" Jet asked. "How are we going to fix him?"
"Well now it is settled. We go to Australia and then call Kozumi to fly down and help him," Albert answered.
"What? Wait a minute. None of us have been to Australia. It's got a bunch of strange animals, that's all I know 'bout it. Why not go someplace one of us knows so we don't get trapped in a strange surrounding? Those last jokers almost had us."
"Yes, but Japan is closer to Australia than New York. It'll be easier."
"And closer to the Black Ghost base we just came from," Francoise reminded Albert. "If we have to hide, I think we'd be safer in New York. A rich doctor like Kozumi could afford to fly to New York and meet us there to help Ivan. I agree with Jet." Francoise felt her face burn hot, and her stomach plunged. She admitted, "Europe is not safe for us right now."
Jet nodded and smirked. "Fuckin' A. Now you're talkin', Franny!"
She shook her head and frowned at him. "You need to see if you're wanted by the police. If you are, we can't go."
"What?" Jet paled and then looked over to Ivan. "You rat finked me out?" Jet's outrage was visible to Francoise, his shoulders trembled as he clenched his white-knuckled fists tighter.
"You left me no choice. Besides, they have a right to know. Why don't you tell your side of the story?" Ivan replied, seeming in control at the moment.
"Fine! This other gang comes strolling on our turf. They knew better. We told them to cut out, but they didn't. One of them steps up to us, and so I obliged. It was just fists. At least that's what I thought until he pulls a blade on me. I grab mine and the fight gets serious. I got a stab to his gut. I didn't mean to kill him, I swear, I didn't. I just wanted to scare him away. My gang and I scattered because the cops were coming. I was scared to death, so when those Black Ghost guys came... well. I was desperate. They said they were just going to give me a ride away from the mess. I felt funny about it, but didn't want the cops to haul my ass off to jail for murder. There! Happy now?"
Albert shook his head. "No, I'm not happy. You should have told us this sooner. Going back to New York could be more dangerous because the police are all potential Black Ghost agents. You can't have your own agendas any more!"
Jet's head whipped around to Albert. Francoise cut off his angry response, putting her hand on Jet's shoulder. "Jet, this can be solved very easily. Go call one of your gang members and see what's going on."
"Phone them? I've thought of that. I'm afraid they'll think I rat finked them out to the cops because I disappeared. They're going to be hacked off at me."
"Just call them. Don't explain everything, but let them know you couldn't come back to them right away. Come on," Francoise said. She helped Ivan to his feet. She lead the way to a small building that looked like a rundown office for a shipping company. She looked through the windows and couldn't pick up any signs of alarm devices. She couldn't hear any odd hums or clicks either. It was all dark, closed for the evening. "I'm sure breaking into that door should be no problem for you."
"Hey! What do you think I am? I don't burglarize places!"
Albert cleared his throat. They looked over to where he pointed to a partially opened window. Jet opened the window further and pulled himself in. "Could have fooled me," Albert murmured.
Normally, Francoise would have let Jet have his privacy, but her curiosity got the best of her. She tuned her hearing towards him, while keeping her sharp vision on the dock. Jet got the overseas operator and asked to be connected to a guy named Mario Conti. The dial tone buzzed in Francoise's ear; it seem forever before someone picked up and said, 'ciao.'
"Ciao, Nonna Conti, I need to speak to Mario. Is he around?"
"What?" she asked in Italian.
Jet then launched into a brief Italian rant. The elderly lady on the other end, Jet's friend's grandmother, seemed confused, but agreeable. Finally, a boy's voice asked in English, "Hey, who is this bothering mia nonna?"
A long pause and then, "It's me, Jet."
Another pause, crackle from the overseas connection. "Where the hell have you been?" The voice was harsh, angry.
"Don't get frosted. Something happened that night. I couldn't meet up with everyone."
"You candy ass! Did you go to the cops to save your own skin? Is that what happened?"
"No, man! I wouldn't do that. I can't tell you what happened except I was kidnapped."
"All I know is after you flaked out, five us ran into real trouble. Sal, Tommy, and Jake all wound up dead. Looked like they got jumped, real bad. All thanks to the buddies of that Puerto Rican kid you knifed. They all said it was a bunch of strange guys in suits, but they lie! Not only that, but Paul and Gino got pinched by the cops. To their credit, they didn't rat fink you out. They almost got charged with the guy you did, but they pleaded down to some other stuff. You know, the stuff they did to that stacked dame down the street. Now they're doing three to five on Rikers."
"What? Paul and Gino were ditzes for touching that girl. I told them they were going to get it." Long pause. "Look. I'm so sorry. I didn't want Sal, Tommy, and Jake to get hurt 'cause of me. It was the Puerto Ricans?"
"They say 'no' I said! Lots of them were doing some 'midnight auto parts shopping,' and the cops busted a lot of them for it. But who else? In suits? They were all done in the back of the head. It looked like someone was pealing the skin right off of them. Vicious M Effers. All I know, it should have been you."
Francoise shivered at the cool, harsh declaration. Her mind went to the Black Ghost. Obviously, they had found Jet's gang. They always wore black suits. "Listen to me," Jet babbled. "All of you have got to lay low! Don't go out! Stay in and don't talk to anyone! Just say you don't know me!"
"We are, you ditz! You know, when you show your ugly mug around here, we're going to stomp it into the ground. We're going to jump your candy ass and give you a taste of what you dished to that Puerto Rican. Then we'll throw you in the East River. You're dead to us!"
"Drop dead twice!" Jet shouted.
"What, and look ugly like you?" came the cool response.
There was a loud slam. Minutes stretched on. Finally, Jet slid back out of the office window. His face utterly somber. "You know, Australia might not be so bad. At least, Kozumi is close by."
Francoise tried to lay her hand on Jet's shoulder, but he shrugged it off. He jammed his hands in his pockets and jerked his head towards the docks. "Come on. Let's get a move on." Francoise caught up with him, leaving Albert and Ivan behind. "I know what you're going to say, Franny. Sorry about the chop to Natalie earlier."
"I'm sorry; your friend was as rotten as mine was," she said. He smirked at her, threw his arm over her shoulders, and shook his head.
"Hey, at least we all still have each other." She snickered and looked to Jet's other side to see Albert and Ivan had caught up. Jet threw his other arm around Albert's shoulders. "So what's in Australia anyway?"
"A tall cold beer, I hope," Albert said, giving his own smirk to Jet. "Hey, Ivan are you going to be fine around other people?"
"I'll be fine, if I can avoid large crowds for now. Just until I can find some control."
"Good. The cargo ship sounds like it has promise," Albert said. Francoise glanced over her shoulder to see Ivan trailing behind, a dower expression darkened his face.
Yana knelt in font of Scar's throne, Ember on her right, the other three behind her. They were all still bandaged up from her attempt to stun the cyborgs.
"This was a horrible failure. You have no idea where they went?" Scar asked.
"No, my lord. They were stronger than I anticipated. The flier, 002, took us by surprise. I was expecting trouble from 001, but he seemed unable to function," the countess explained.
"Fool! They were built for combat! What were you thinking! Failure is not tolerated."
"Wait, my lord," Ember spoke up. "Countess Yana and the rest of us have faced them now. Now we are more prepared. I request to let us have one more chance."
Yana glared at Ember. How dare he presume to beg for her in front of Scar? She composed herself, rose, and stepped forward. After all, chasing the Double Zero Cyborgs was now personal for her; competition was a thrill to her, but losing was always unacceptable. She supposed it was now personal to Ember, having his weapon shamefully stripped from him. The twins as well; she knew they mumbled about making 003 pay all the way back to Ghost Island. She couldn't tell about the oaf, but his opinion was irrelevant to her. He was her tool.
"I know I can bring them back," she said, keeping her chin high, shoulders squared.
"It's too late! Funding has been slashed by the Merchants of Death!" Scar pounded his fist on the arm of his throne; Yana was careful not to flinch, cowardliness would sign her death warrant.
"However, because I have no other options, I will charge you five with tracking them. Do not confront them, yet," Scar warred.
"Thank you, my lord. We will not fail," Yana said. She turned and left, her men followed in her wake.
To be continued.