Flask and Cutlass

Summary: The investigators arrive in Genovia and meet the first of their leads.


Somewhere in Croatia
Peter Dowling, Croatian Army
21 June 1992

Peter Dowling looked up from cleaning the M76 sniper rifle as he watched the Croats improving their positions. 'The Serbs beat a hasty retreat.'

Pete put the working parts of the rifle back together, dabbing a bit of oil onto them and then cocking the weapon. He aimed it skyward and dry-fired it.

'Right, they're good lads, disciplined and ready in case the bloody Serbs want to retake this place.' Pete thought to himself as he looked out the window of the half destroyed house. Nearby a Croat NCO gestured with one arm in a wide arc to direct the field of fire for one of the two Zastava M84 machine guns covering the crater-pocked pasture approaching their position.

He finished cleaning the M76 and raised it to his shoulder, sighting in at the edge of the field. Then he took his binoculars out, scanning left to right, then right to left.

'Right. Treeline's partially burned up. Dead cows minging about the field. Shell craters.' Pete thought to himself as he scanned the ground before him in detail.

He watched two Croatians carrying a dead Serb towards a ditch at the edge of their position, tossing him in.

'Can't blame the Croats for that. After all the bloody Serbs filled that pit full with corpses near the town.' Dowling reached over for the AKM-47 at his side, gripping the wooden hand grip in one hand. Then he slung the M76 over his shoulder before climbing the rickety stairs of the half destroyed house. 'Where would I hide if I was a Serb marksman wanting to give this position the good news?'

His eyes scanned the surrounding countryside as he watched some of the Croats burying landmines on the approaches to their position.

"Oi, Dowling," A thick Yorkshire accent from downstairs.

"Yeah?" Dowling replied as he turned around.

"Papa Louie wants to have an O Group," the red bearded Dave said from the bottom of the steps.

"Right, on my way." Pete walked down the steps and followed Dave out to a bombed out farm tractor with a tarp crudely stretched out over one side to form a sort of crude lean to.

"Papa Louie" Trent smoked a cigarette as he cradled his Yugoslav-built AK model across his knees while drawing out a rough outline of the small ramshackle collection of farm buildings now occupied by the Croats.

"Looks like the Croats are interested in keeping this place. Can't say I blame 'em. We've got good observation and fields of fire to the road crossing." The stocky American spoke with a fast New York cadence.

"Wonder if the bloody Serbs are going to throw some tanks our way?" Dave replied.

"I called up to higher seeing if the Croats can get any anti-tank systems our way. Jury's out if they'll actually come through," Papa Louie replied.

"I'm thinking my counterparts on the Serbian side are likely to get busy shortly," Pete interjected, tapping the sling of the M76 slung across his back.

The crack of a rifle sounded. Shouts. And the cries for a medic. The Croat sergeant who had been directing troops to set their machine guns up lay prostrate on his back, blood seeping from a hole in his chest…

'Fucking Hell, I wish I was wrong.' Pete thought, sliding the M76 off of his back as he ducked behind the cover of some large rocks. He pulled a pair of binoculars out as he scanned the ground to his front.


Genovian Arms Hotel
Coastal Highway
Genovia
04 May 1993

Peter Dowling sat up in bed, blinking his eyes as the red numbers on the bedside alarm clock came into focus.

'0437. Bollocks to trying to sleep right now.' Dowling glowered and schlepped out of bed. He changed into a pair of shorts and a gray t-shirt with a faded Union Jack across the front.

He grabbed his Walkman, slipped on his running shoes, and headed out of the hotel for an easy jog along the beach.

With Billy Ocean's When the Going Gets Tough echoing through his ears, his feet struck the hard-packed white sand as he ran down the beach with a slow, loping gait…


Message 2-3-2-5
Authentication X-Ray Alpha
ACME Genovia Field Office
Agents Rian, Cabot and Killian
04 May 1993, 8:30 AM

"Semper Fidelis Solutions is sending one of its employees to accompany you on the case for the duration of your investigation, Mr. Peter Dowling," Tiffany began, sliding a dossier to Cabot and Killian.

"Seventeen years in the British Army, including twelve in the Special Air Service," Ashley noted as she read through the dossier.

"Two years as a freelance mercenary after leaving the British Army," Cabot frowned as he looked.

"He only recently began working for Semper Fidelis Solutions. Looks like he spent part of 1991 and a good deal of 1992 in the Balkans," Ashley added.

"Well, the Croatian cause attracted many Western mercenaries to fight off the Serbs. Dowling was one such man," Tiffany interjected.

"Maybe if he wanted to make a difference he should've stayed with the British Army." Cabot frowned.

Ashley shot him a look.

Cabot shrugged. "What? Just how useful do you think a gun for hire can be in such a high profile investigation."

"He has prior experience in clandestine operations. Something called Operation Boomslang in 1991…" Ashley pointed to the corresponding sentence.

"Still…how much can we trust a mercenary?" Cabot frowned.

"Judge much?" Ashley replied.

"Like Machiavelli said 'Mercenaries and auxiliaries are useless and dangerous…'." Cabot began.

"I award you points for the quote but that's it," Ashley sighed. Then came the knock on the door.

"Come in…" Tiffany glanced over her right shoulder as she stood up. Ashley and Cabot stood as well, stepping away from the table.

The door opened and Ashley saw a deeply tanned fellow with tousled jet-black hair step into the room. She spied the red and blue striped Visitor's badge clipped to the front pocket of his black Members Only jacket. He walked towards them, dark eyes appraising the room as he held a steaming foam cup of tea in his left hand.


Operational Report 1-2-4-4
Peter Dowling
ACME Genovia Field Office
04 May 1993, 8:55 AM

Peter Dowling headed to the conference room at the ACME Genovia Field Office. He had a cup of tea steaming in his right hand as he stood just outside the closed door. He lightly tapped his knuckles on the wooden door.

"Come in." The clipped Irish accent of Agent Rian echoed.

Dowling opened the door and stepped through the entrance. To his left, he saw Agent Rian in her usual skirt suit, this one in grey offset by the red blouse.

To his right he noticed the lanky man with the longish red hair, standing at an even six feet of height. He wore a three piece suit sans tie. That would be Agent Cabot.

A slim blonde woman in a blue blouse and black slacks with her hair in a messy bun stood beside Cabot. He picked her out as Agent Killian, the forensic epidemiologist.

"Mitch Cabot, Ashley Killian, this is Peter Dowling from Semper Fidelis Solutions he'll be providing escort for the pair of you, as discussed." Tiffany gestured to both of them.

The blonde woman's gaze flickered in his direction as he walked over to the two agents, who stood up from their chairs.

The tall redhead shook his hand with a firm grip and gave a belated attempt at a polite smile as the blonde woman gave him a sideways look.

"Pleased to meet you, Dowling." Cabot frostily said as they shook hands.

Pete glowered at the greeting. 'Think you're superior to me because of some fucking piece of paper…bollocks to you. I'll do my duty but don't expect me to like you.'

He turned to shake hands with the blonde woman who actually smiled at him. Pete returned the smile. As she released his hand she asked, "Do you usually go by Pete or Peter?"

"Either will do, mate," Dowling replied. 'She's rather kind. I'll likely deal with her over the distant redheaded chap.'

"It's good to meet you," Ashley said.

"Charmed." Pete's polite smile actually widened, despite himself.

After the introductions finished, Tiffany cleared her throat. "I'll show you your office space next."

Cabot followed Tiffany out the door and then Pete held the door and said, "Ladies first."

They walked down a hallway, towards an open cubicle area where three desks were pushed together with a pair of dry erase boards and an assortment of office supplies.

"First off, I am grateful all three of you are here. Ground rules, I welcome all opinions concerning this investigation as we all have something we can contribute," Tiffany began as her green eyes scanned the other three members of the investigative team.

"They've got me as your main point of contact to Semper Fidelis Solutions," Pete added.

"Any leads?" Cabot asked Tiffany just as the telephone rang. She held her hand up, crossing the room with long legged strides to answer the telephone.

"Sounds like she's answering a call from a lead," Dowling observed.

"Really? You think?" Cabot snarked.

"Right, mate, I get the sense you don't like me over much. Well, I'll tell you the feeling is mutual." Dowling replied. 'Wanker!'

"Okay, both of you, cool it with the hostility," Ashley interjected, stepping between both men.

"A gentleman doesn't start a fight, love, but he does finish it," Dowling replied. 'He wants to be a wanker, I'll give him a clip 'round the ear'ole.'

"Somehow I don't think Richard Gere would star in a movie titled A Mercenary and A Gentleman," Cabot sniped.

"I do think they'd pick an English actor for such a role, mate," Dowling replied.

Ashley's eyes cast about the room and she sighed with relief as Tiffany hung up the phone and walked over.

"Right, you three. You've got a meeting with an informant of mine," Tiffany began as she stopped over.

"You can't go with us?" Ashley asked.

"Sadly I've got a meeting at the American Embassy today." Tiffany sighed.

"What can you tell us about the chap?" Pete asked.

"His name is Beni Gabor, a Hungarian sometime-mercenary, often hangs about the docks…" Tiffany began.

"Beni Gabor? Croatia?" Pete's eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, how did you know?" Tiffany asked, eyes narrowing.

"I know the bloke. Fought alongside him in '91 and partially in '92," Pete replied.

Ashley looked over at Cabot with a wry grin.

"Is that a good thing?" Tiffany asked.

"In a very rare case. But he's a squirrelly wanker," Pete replied with a shrug.

"Okay, so where and when are we meeting the guy?" Cabot asked.

"A dockside pub called The Flask and The Cutlass, and your meeting is at 10:30 AM…sadly my meeting at the Embassy is at 10:00 AM," Tiffany replied as she looked over at the wall clock which read 9:21 AM.

She handed Cabot a photo held to a piece of paper by a clip, depicting a tall, thin man with a moustache and mousy brown hair.

"I'd better get going." Tiffany grabbed her handbag and cell phone before heading for the door.

"I know how to get to where he wants to meet up," Pete replied, digging into his pocket and producing the keys to a Toyota Landcruiser.

"Where did you park?" Ashley asked.

"I'm parked out front and I can get us there ahead of time." Pete grinned.


The Flask and The Cutlass
Dockside, Genovia
04 May 1993, 10:14 AM

Peter Dowling put the Landcruiser in park and stepped out of the vehicle, scanning the docks around him as he took in the smell of the sea, the cawing of seagulls and the lapping of waves against the stone quay.

"Right, this way." Pete indicated with his head as he walked down the street towards a squat, two story building in gray stone.

At the front was a statue of a skeletal pirate with a cutlass held in a position to bring it slashing downward.

Pete reached into a pocket, took out a British two pence coin from his pocket, gave the obverse side a kiss, and set it at the feet of the statue.

"He's gone crackers," Cabot whispered behind him.

"If you must know it's a good luck ritual some of us have," Pete remarked, indicating the brace of coins of many different nations at the statue's feet.

"Some of us, you mean…other mercenaries?" Cabot asked with narrowing eyes.

"No, mate, I meant traveling minstrels. Of course other mercs." Pete glowered.

"Okay, what's the significance?" Ashley asked, stepping between the two men.

"It's an old story, purportedly dating to ancient times. As to which era depends on the bloke telling the story. Giving fate's handmaiden a coin keeps you from having to ride Charon's ferry across the River Styx before your time," Pete explained.

"So it's a superstition?" Cabot rolled his eyes.

"Mercenaries can be problematic." Cabot narrowed his eyes.

Pete's hands knotted into fists as his own eyes narrowed.

Ashley sighed. "Both of you please quit acting like two cranky preschoolers…"

"Right, mum," Pete replied with a small grin.

"Someone's in Mom mode," Cabot smirked as he strode confidently into the bar.

Pete noted Cabot held the door open for Ashley and then let go as he approached. He caught the door and then proceeded into the bar's interior.

"Listen, mate, are you looking for a problem?" Pete bristled.


"Someone's in Mom mode." Cabot smiled toothily at her as he spoke.

Ashley fumed. 'His usual Mom Mode jokes are not what the situation calls for.'

As she headed for the door, Ashley noticed quite an array of coins at the feet of the statue. By quick count she recognized at least a dozen British, French, Italian, and Spanish coins. 'I see two American Quarters and one Silver Dollar.'

Peter Dowling hung back, scanning the area around him before the bar, removing his sunglasses and setting them in a case.

Cabot, of course, was going a million miles an hour towards a tall, thin man sitting at a table to the rear. Ashley followed in his wake, noticing Dowling breaking away towards a high table near them.

'Mitch. Slow down!' Ashley thought to herself. She looked over at Mr. Gabor who's eyes went wide when he saw them arrive. The man seemed to be scanning the room's entrances nervously. Like a hunted animal.

'Alright, I'll follow Mitch. This is our only lead so far.' Ashley thought to herself as she trailed behind him, catching up at the table.

Beni Gabor sat with his back to the wall and peered at them through half closed eyes, squinting as he regarded both newcomers.

"Did Tiffany send you?" Beni asked.

"She did," Cabot replied.

Ashley glanced over one shoulder in time to see Pete looking in their direction before scanning the room again just as a stocky fellow with a red beard and broad shoulders approached.

"Oi, wanker!" The man belted out.

"Oh fuck off, dickhead."


Peter Dowling took his seat at the high top, keeping eye on Beni right when he saw Ashley glancing over one shoulder at him.

'Clearly new to the field. Shouldn't be casting about for one's security…' Pete thought to himself.

"Oi, wanker!" A distinct Yorkshire voice.

Pete swiveled in his chair. "Oh fuck off, dickhead."

Dave grinned. "Haven't seen you since Croatia."

"Got a job I'm on." Pete remarked.

Dave looked out of the corner of one eye towards Cabot and Ashley.

"Oh, what does your client want with Beni the Flake?" Dave asked.

"Can't go into too much detail but those two Yanks are investigating something afoot." Pete indicated with a canting of his head.

"I'm on a day off myself, mate." Dave gestured to the barman.

"You're on a job?" Pete asked.

"Yeah. Some Genovian Member of Parliament wanted a combat experienced security advisor." Dave grinned.

"Good, mate, given you'd fail a good looks selection." Pete grinned as their server approached and both men ordered beer.

"Piss off, Dowling," Dave quipped. Both men laughed briefly before the conversation shifted.

"Digger the Aussie?" Pete asked as the two Pilsner flutes of Bitburger arrived.

"Off to the Congo," Dave replied, taking a sip.

"The Uzi?" Pete asked, taking a sip of his own.

"He's bloody married to it." Dave grinned toothily.

"Fritz?" Pete asked.

"Colombia, last month." Dave solemnly bowed his head.

"Fast or slow?" Pete sighed. 'One can go in a long and unpleasant manner in Colombia.'

"Technicolor funeral, mate." Dave set his glass down.

"Who'd he manage to piss off?" Pete replied. 'At least it was quick.'

"More like who's woman did he filch." Dave shrugged before taking another sip.

"Bloke did always have an eye for the ladies. Especially the spoken for variety." Pete's eyebrows furrowed.

"Probably what did him in." Dave nodded.

Pete raised his glass solemnly. "To Fritz."

"To Fritz." Dave responded.

"Resquiscat Im Pace, Kamerad." Pete replied.


Ashley could hear small snatches of conversation between Pete and the new fellow he'd brazenly called 'dickhead'.

Clearly they were friends, given the relaxed body language, and she couldn't quite hear what they were going on about till she heard the conversation shift to what sounded like mutual acquaintances.

She frowned when she noticed Pete drinking beer. 'Note to self, have a word with Dowling about drinking on the job.'

As Ashley turned her divided attention back to Cabot and Beni a phrase caught her ear. 'Technicolor funeral?'

shrugged.

Ashley's attention swung fully into the conversation. "Can you draw this symbol?" Ashley asked, handing Beni a pen from her purse and sliding an upside down coaster his way.

Beni hesitated, clicking the pen four times before drawing a circle with three arcs emanating from the center and sliding the coaster towards Ashley.

'The Biohazard symbol!' Ashley recognized it straightaway, barely containing a gasp.

Cabot remained impassive. "Okay Beni, we have only your word that you saw a container with a yellow biohazard sticker on it. Where did you see it?"

"Somewhere in Genoa…no…no…no…Livorno…" Beni's eyes shifted left and right as he spoke.

His eyes focused on a point behind them and to the right.

'That's where Pete and his friend are and…' Ashley thought as Beni stood up and ran out the back of the establishment…


"Beni seems a tad spooked doesn't he?" Pete asked.

"Too right, mate. I'm willing to bet he's gonna run out on your clients." Dave smirked.

"Up to help me do my clients a favor, mate?" Pete asked.

"I owe Beni a few since Croatia…" Dave replied as he stood up from his table and headed towards another side exit opening into a back alley.

Dowling, meanwhile watched Beni stand up, turn and run out towards the kitchen area of the bar. He headed in hot pursuit of Beni.


'I've already told those Americans too much…' Beni thought as he ran, weaving past counters, stoves and refrigerators and shocked staff. Seeing Dowling and Red Dave from Croatia was too much.

As he headed for the entrance he saw Dave looming outside the bar. He turned around to run only to collide with Dowling.

"Hullo Beni," Dowling calmly said. Beni pulled a knife only to be bearhugged from behind by Dave.

"Let's keep things sporting, mate…" Pete toothily grinned before punching Beni in the stomach.

"I believe you have a previous engagement to get back to," Dave growled firmly, leading Beni back into the bar by the scruff of his neck…

"But what about my knife?" Beni protested.

"You'll get it back, after your meeting, mate…" Pete replied.


"Well looks like our one source ran off leaving us with…" Cabot began just in time to see Beni being escorted into the room by Pete and a red haired and bearded fellow. The red bearded fellow had a well thickened hand gripping the scruff of Beni's neck and his left arm twisted behind his back.

"Hullo, I believe this bloke has some business with you…" the red bearded fellow began.

Pete dragged out the chair and the red bearded man made Beni sit down. Hard.

"We'll stand by in case he decides to bolt again." Pete smirked, casually playing with a knife in his right hand, cleaning his fingernails with the point as he leaned against the wall, positioned between Beni and the kitchen entrance.

Ashley quirked an eyebrow at Pete who simply gave her a wry grin. 'Is this guy crazy?'

"Okay, Beni, maybe we got off on the wrong foot." Cabot stole a glance at Dowling who simply shrugged.

"I can see you're afraid. What are you afraid of?" Cabot began.

"Cobra…they're everywhere." Beni frantically scanned the room.

"If you work with us, we can see you get protection." Cabot began.

"W-what do you want?" Beni asked.

"Any further information you get on Cobra, especially involving that biological sample you mentioned." Cabot slid his business card across the table towards him.

"Beni, what else do you remember about that container?" Ashley began.

"It had the word Zurich on it," Beni began as he looked over towards Ashley.

"Alright, how large was it?" Ashley asked.

"Small enough to fit in a briefcase," Beni replied.

"Anything else?" Ashley replied.

"It had some word starting with B on it…" Beni replied.

"Oh? What was it?" Ashley asked, noticing Cabot was just itching to say something out of the corner of one eye.

"It started with a B…" Beni began.

"Out with it, what was the word?" Cabot demanded.

Ashley shot him a look. 'B…could it be just the word Biohazard or Botulium…'

Beni's eyes scanned the bar again, sweat streaming out of his pores despite the air conditioning's rattling.

"Beni, can you remember anything about that word?" Ashley gently coaxed.

"I only saw the first two letters…B…O…"

'Botulinum toxin! That's what it had to be!' Ashley's mind raced, eyes going wide. Now Cabot shot her a look. She wordlessly slipped Beni her own business card.

"Alright, Beni. I'd say this concludes our meeting for now…however, if you should learn anything new, it's easy to get a hold of either of us," Cabot began.

"What about my knife?" Beni demanded, growing bolder.

"This knife?" Dowling asked with a grin.

Beni nodded. Dowling turned to one side and flung the knife towards the dartboard where it embedded itself halfway between the 12 o'clock and center.

"Thanks for the helping hand, Dave." Dowling nodded as Beni headed for the dartboard.

"No worries. Felt good to give Beni some flavor of good news." Dave smirked.

Cabot gave Dowling the evil eye as he pulled the keys to the Landcruiser out of his pocket.

As they left the bar Ashley overheard Dave talking to Beni as the latter attempted to leave the bar after retrieving his knife.

"Listen, mate, don't skip town unless you want a technicolor funeral."

'There's that term again.' Ashley thought, adding it to the list of things she wanted to ask Dowling as they left the bar.


TBC