5Author's Note:This story exists as a companion to another story, Old Guard, New Blood, and serves to expand on the ideas therein by providing a different perspective on the same events. Also, the site parsed a lot of the punctuation in this into non-existence. Some things were lost in the transition.
Shameless Plug:The character Black was sto– er… 'borrowed' from The Handsome Men, by Person with Many Aliases. I've a great fondness for those characters and couldn't resist taking Black out of her box so I could play with her.
House of Cards
Claes yawned and walked back to her room feeling fresh and smelling clean. Showering always had that effect on her.
After her latest round of testing she had found some solace in weeding her garden. Henrietta had expressed frustration about the entire thing earlier. "You pull them all out, Claes, but they just grow back."
She smiled at the memory. Sometimes she just needed to busy her hands for a while and tending to the garden provided just what she wanted, no matter how quickly the weeds grew back.
Back at her room, she towel-dried her hair, chose a pretty, little outfit and made herself look presentable. Triela was on assignment with Hilshire somewhere and wouldn't be back for a day or three so she had it all to herself. This also meant her room was somewhat lonely and she wasn't in the mood for lonely, so she brushed her hair out, grabbed her glasses and headed for the library.
The library wasn't much of a library in the conventional sense, just a room with a laptop, a desk, a chair, a bed and a lot of books. By now she honestly couldn't recall why she had a key to the room or whether it had been occupied before. No one else seemed interested in it or the books therein so its origins remained a mystery.
Sometimes she enjoyed sitting or lounging on the bed and reading in the library. The book resting on the bed attested to that fact, the words Through A Glass, Darkly, printed on its spine in English. But after entering and closing the door behind her, she went straight for the computer and powered it on.
The laptop was a fairly new variety, showing few signs of wear. She had never asked for it, but her desire for one had come up a few times in conversation with Triela and the blonde girl had ways of making these things happen. The only thing she really used it for was checking out the internet and storing the little bits of writing that occasionally poured forth from the depths of her soul.
She had no illusions of privacy; like everything else in her life, the laptop belonged to the SWA. Whatever she wrote and whatever websites she visited were all available to be reviewed by the authorities, but she tried not to let that bother her.
It's not like she was browsing for porn, anyway. Most of her time online was spent researching, cruising a few forums and playing mindless, online games. She kept in touch with few people, either through forums or via email, she had met online but those 'relationships' – if you could call them that – were fleeting and ephemeral. She didn't have much in common with most of the people she knew from the web. Except Black.
For some reason she felt like they had a lot in common, herself and this American girl she had never met. Claes did her best to share the personal details of her life at the SWA without actually sharing any personal details, keeping her friend at a distance. It always felt like Black did the same with her, describing her life while omitting anything which might incriminate her.
Maybe that was part of it, how she had established such a rapport with her internet friend. Both of them were stuck in situations where they didn't get much outside contact but desperately wanted it, and they had been able to become close because of this. Or maybe her fancies were getting the better of her.
She fired up her instant messenger program while she browsed the latest news headlines. The ongoing corruption investigations in Parliament had claimed some more careers; it seemed some cabinet-level officials were expected to resign. Civil unrest was close to boiling over in Burma. The UN had made some headway on a cohesive, international, environmental policy but the Americans remained aloof, as usual.
The IM program finally connected, the little network activity LED on the laptop blinking happily. Black was on. Claes smiled as she typed a greeting.
Claes: Hi. How are you?
Black: Hi Claes! I'm fine. Been studying. You?
Claes: Gardening. I keep pulling weeds and they keep growing back. How was testing today?
Black was some sort of medical guinea pig so far as Claes knew. She was never rude enough to inquire directly, but she'd always gotten the impression that Black had some sort of illness or condition that kept her in the hospital while the doctors ran tests. Not so very different from Claes herself or so she imagined. Not that she had ever mentioned that to Black.
Black: Sucked. I've been on pain meds for a few hours. Makes me sleepy. -
Ouch. Claes was never really sure if the medication was for something that happened during whatever 'tests' the doctors ran on her or for whatever affliction she had. Of Claes's own testing she could remember little. The last few days she'd had bits of time where she literally couldn't remember what had happened. Like, she could remember going to see Dr. Bianchi and she remembered leaving afterwards, but she couldn't recall what testing had occurred or how it had gone.
Black mentioned things like these casually but was often quick to change the subject. It was like she needed to tell someone about how she felt but then realized that she shouldn't have said anything. Claes could sympathize.
Black: Gardening by yourself?
Claes: Yeah. Rico and Triela're out on business again and Etta's back tomorrow. Been paying attention to the news?
Black: Um, kinda. I've been studying the socio-political situation in the Middle East, especially since Iran is being such an attention-whore these days. What's in the news?
Claes: Sen. Dini's corruption investigation has snowballed. There are rumors that the senate will demand the resignation of several ministers.
Black: Really? I'd always gotten the impression that Italy had a good government.
Claes: Why do you say that?
As much as she might like to believe that to be true, Claes was in the unique position of understanding just how well the government had a hold on crime and terrorism.
There was a pause of a few minutes while Black thought. To busy herself, Claes pointed her browser at a forum she frequented and checked out the latest posts. The IM interrupted her with Black's reply.
Black: The comparative crime rates, I guess. Come to think of it, I never really investigated the political situation there. I always just assumed most European nations had good, stable democracies or republics. I guess that's not entirely accurate.
Not entirely accurate? Claes had never really given it much thought herself, but she did realize that Italy's government changed a lot. It had been relatively stable recently, but that had not always been the case through quite a few previous administrations. She always had figured it was a good thing, with the will of the people asserting itself and the government responding accordingly. She'd read that in a book somewhere.
Claes: Oh?
Black: I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that, but Italy's government does see a lot of upheaval.
Claes: And that's a bad thing?
The reply came quickly.
Black: That's not what I'd meant.
Claes stifled a giggle as she typed.
Claes: Don't worry, I'm not offended or anything, I'm just curious what you have to say on the matter. 8D
Black had a keen mind and a great appreciation for the way Claes thought and reasoned. That's what had initially sparked the discourse between them. Black had sent an email to one of Claes's many accounts to compliment her on her perspective on the PRF. They'd hit it off and had kept in touch since. Claes held her opinion in high regard and really did want to hear what she had to say on the matter.
Black: Thanks, that's a relief.
Claes smiled and flipped back to her forum as Black typed.
Black: In your opinion, what's the most important function of government?
Claes: To serve the interests of the people.
Black: To serve and protect, right? But whose interests take precedence when different factions are at odds?
The corners of Claes's mouth pulled up in a grin as she typed. This was something she'd stressed over and over to the idiots who thought the PRF had the right idea. The desires of the few shouldn't outweigh the desires of the many, even when those few had bombs.
Claes: The greatest good for the greatest number of people. Government would stretch itself into nonexistence if it had to cater to everyone's whims.
Black: Exactly. And who's better at doing his job? A man who's been doing it for a year or one who's been doing it for a decade?
Claes hesitated, sensing the trap.
Claes: That depends. The man who's been in office for a decade could be jaded and lazy. The man in office for a year could bring a fresh, new perspective. Experience alone is no indicator of professionalism.
Black: That is true, while the newcomer could be better, he could be worse as well. Further, a newcomer is an unknown whereas an incumbent has a history. Unless it's a really bad history, he shouldn't be replaced merely to promote change.
Claes smiled to herself as she thought, Gardening busies the hands; rhetoric busies the mind.
Claes: So politicians should be kept in office until they screw up?
Black: Ideally. The more time spent worrying about who's going to get into office, the less time there is to focus on fixing the country's problems.
Claes: So you'd have government officials serve for life?
Black: The Italian parliament has senators who do just that, don't they?
Good point. It did make sense, but Claes knew that it didn't work. That power corrupts those who wield it was a well-known and oft-quoted fact. In fact, the Americans had term limits for almost all high-profile government positions, though there were many who would argue that America was hardly a model of good democracy.
Claes: But the end of the First Republic came about because of Parliamentary scandal. Removing corrupt officials was necessary and important. You would rather that they continued their political careers while the rest of the nation turned a blind eye to what they'd done?
Black: As long as the rest of the nation benefited from that, yes. The alternative is that the populace loses too much faith in the government and splinter factions and terrorist organizations like the PRF flourish. It's easy for them to recruit others by claiming to be fighting rampant corruption in government. Everyone knows it already happened once before.
Claes shook her head, unsure of whether her friend was serious.
Claes: America rotates its President every four years and its legislative officers every two to six years, isn't it? In fact, if I recall correctly, American Presidents cannot serve for more than eight years, right?
Black: American senators serve six year terms without limit. Representatives serve terms of two years at a time, but again, there's no limit to how many times one can be reelected. The President serves a four year term with a maximum of two terms in a lifetime.
Claes: And America's government is more stable?
Black: The difference has to do with the when and how of Italy's elections. There has never been a US President removed from office. Four were assassinated and one resigned. Nixon's resignation in 1974 was mostly unavoidable. That was the last significant upheaval in US government. Further, the public was left with the perception that it was the failure of a single man, Nixon himself, rather than a failing endemic to government. Nixon's vice president, Gerald Ford, assumed the office via a relatively smooth transition. The people still had faith in the system. Presidents are still elected now as they were then. There were seven prime ministers in Italy between 1989 and 2000, some of whom were elected to and removed from office via special referenda.
Claes: You'd advocate a cover-up to keep the incumbents in office? Should Nixon have stayed in office?
Black: You had said that the purpose of government was to do the greatest good for the greatest number of people. It would be worth it to protect the few if the rest of the country thereby benefited. With regards to Nixon, his removal wasn't that bad. There was no severe destabilization of the government as a result and the thing that prompted his resignation – spying on a rival political party – was a sign that he was more concerned with his political career than the health of the country. Terrorist groups like the PRF exist because they have popular support. If the people didn't support them they would eventually run out of places to hide and you and your friends would end up with much less dangerous jobs.
Claes: So you're saying the PRF is a result of corruption investigations in Parliament?
Black: A symptom, not a direct result. The PRF exists because people are convinced that they have to take the law into their own hands because the government isn't meeting their needs properly. Which is better, a senator who takes bribes or bombs going off in downtown Rome?
Claes frowned while she typed.
Claes: But where would it stop? Would you silence all political dissidents if their opinions demoralized the general populace? Would it be permissible to slaughter little girls if that somehow would ensure peace and prosperity for the rest of the nation?
Black: It's possible with proper justification. Political dissidence is a choice. A person has to choose to speak out, it's not like you can be born like that. But I'm not sure how you could justify killing little girls. :
She hesitated a moment before typing again. What Black had said was true, but it just felt... wrong.
Claes: Sorry, I didn't mean that, but I was trying to make a point. I don't really know that the ends do justify the means. Do you really think so?
There was a longer pause before the response came.
Black: Well... I believe it's true, that you can do something bad in the service of a greater good. But it does grate on my sense of morality. Either way, I'm glad I don't have to be the one to make choices like that.
"Were you in my office recently, Jean?" The speaker was a professional-looking woman in her thirties with short, dark hair and a notoriously severe attitude. She wore a conservative black suit with a knee-length skirt and heels.
Jean, on the other hand, was attired in a double-breasted, gray suit, black tie, dark shoes and glasses. He paused outside the door to the office in question before replying, "No."
Ferro, arms crossed over her chest, frowned. "It looks like some things got moved around on my desk. If you need anything from my office, tell me, and if you move anything, just put it back."
"Uh, sure," he said and continued on his way to the Chief's office.
When it rains, it pours, he thought to himself. The last year had been pretty quiet as far as things in their line of work were concerned, but recently things had begun to heat up. The PRF had executed several well-planned strikes against key people and institutions over the last nine months or so, that seemed to imply that the organization was under new management or had found itself a keen strategist. Even worse, there was a lot of dirty laundry being aired in both chambers of Parliament right now which severely hobbled the Agency and its work. Jean frequently met with Chief Lorenzo to discuss such things in private, and this most recent summons had come on short notice.
He turned a corner, walked up a flight of stairs and down another hallway before coming to a stop in front of an ornate, wooden door flanked by a plaque with the Chief's name etched into it. He knocked once, softly.
"Come in." was the response. Jean opened the door and stepped inside.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Jean? I'm glad you're here," the Chief said, his voice tinged with relief.
Jean stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Lorenzo's office was rather richly appointed, sharing the sophisticated and distinct architecture of the rest of the building. The floor was hardwood, and the walls – what parts of them were not covered by bookcases – were wood-paneled.
The chief himself was dressed casually, in contrast to Jean's professional look. He wore plain, black pants and a long-sleeved, black shirt. He had a sharp face to match his sharp wit, but his hair had long since turned to gray, probably sometime after his eyesight had deteriorated enough for him to require glasses.
Lorenzo came around from behind the desk and said, "Have a seat." He gestured to a vacant chair. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed as Jean seated himself. "How do the results look?"
"Pretty normal, I'm afraid," Jean replied, leafing through the stack of papers he'd been carrying under his arm. "Henrietta's still needy, Claes has been having those dreams again and Dr. Bianchi told me – yet again – that it's a miracle Angelica has survived this long," he finished, irritation creeping into his voice.
"And Rico, Triela, Beatrice, the others?"
"No complaints, no problems. Dr. Bianchi tells me he thinks Rico might be starting to show some signs of deterioration of her long-term memory, but nothing that will interfere with her ability to do her job. Triela may be due for another leg replacement, but we should consult Hilshire about that. Beatrice has suffered no ill effects from her operation. The other cyborgs are operating normally."
"How's the testing coming?" he asked, his distaste palpable.
"Dr. Bianchi expects to see results by the end of the month." Despite the assurances of the technical and medical staff, the Chief still had some reservations about this newest round of medical testing.
"That's good to hear. I hope it's worth it." He paused, thoughtful. "We may need as many of the girls as we can field, even Claes and Angelica."
"Sir?"
Lorenzo sighed heavily. "You've heard about the heavy casualties Section One sustained in their last operation?"
"Five dead, wasn't it?"
"Yes. I met with a friend of mine yesterday about some other business and this came up. It seems that there was one survivor from the second squad and only one casualty in the first. The lone survivor said his squad was ambushed by a man and a woman and that the woman was strong enough to throw a seventy kilo man, in full combat gear, three meters." He paused to let his words sink in.
"You're saying the PRF has cyborgs?" If that was true it meant the stakes had been raised in the cloak & dagger world of counter-terrorism.
"I'm saying nothing of the sort, I just know what that man was supposed to have said. The amount of support the Five Republics has these days is amazing, so it is possible they have secured the funding and technology to support their own mechanical body program, but if that's true, then theirs is nothing like ours."
"Because they use adults," Jean said, deep in thought.
"Not just that, but because they let a man go. If it had been one of our girls, she would have had no compunctions against shooting him in the head, but this man claims the woman held a knife to his throat, took his weapon and sidearm and told him to run."
Jean shook his head in disbelief. "It just doesn't make any sense." He paused to think. Lorenzo watched him carefully. "What about the other four? If the PRF let this guy go, what happened with the first squad?"
"Once they'd lost radio contact with Second Squad, they retreated to the entrance and tried to ambush the ambushers."
"But they survived."
"Not all of them. They got in a firefight with these unknown assailants and managed to lose a man. Selvaggio was their squad leader. Ettore Selvaggio. You remember him?"
"Yeah." Selvaggio was a name which had come up about two years ago when Lorenzo had asked for some input on new handlers for the SWA. Jean had advised more caution in selecting handlers, arguing that the most successful ones matched a particular, psychological profile in several important areas. The Agency didn't need more Raballos or – even worse – another Lauro. A little digging had revealed enough about Selvaggio's past to completely disqualify him, despite his other strengths.
"Somehow, they managed to sneak someone around behind the squad as they were lying in wait. When the shooting started, Selvaggio took a single round through his neck at close range. The wound indicates it was from someone almost his height, shooting from no more than two meters away and standing behind him. He must've tried to turn around, because he got hit in the right side and fell forward. When the rest of his squad realized what had happened they got the Hell out of there."
Jean shook his head again. Selvaggio wasn't a particularly tall man, but he was renowned for a lot of things. If one of the PRF men – or one of these alleged cyborgs – had gotten that close without him knowing, then he was either getting old or the PRF had some real professionals in their employ. Considering the demise of Second Squad, Jean figured it was probably more the latter.
Though he was among the best at what he did, Selvaggio was also notorious for being cruel, difficult to work with, and contemptuous of authority so it was doubtful any tears would be shed over his death.
"So Padania wiped out everyone in Second Squad except one man and killed only one man from First Squad?"
"That's what I hear, but this is hardly a topic suitable for dinnertime conversation."
"Understood. Who was the survivor from Second Squad?"
"Ottavio de Verrazano, their newest recruit." The name meant nothing to him.
There was a long silence as Jean thought. Lorenzo waited patiently. He knew his colleague well enough not to bother him with an interruption.
However he looked at it, this was very bad news. If the PRF had cyborgs then one of the exclusive advantages enjoyed by Section Two would be lost. Of course there were other entities which could field cybernetically enhanced operatives – the Americans had had the technology almost as long as Italy had, and if the Mirasol incident had taught them anything it was that governments weren't the only ones who could build cyborgs – but so far the PRF had failed in all their attempts to acquire them. What was worse, Lorenzo had made no mention of anything like this before; the news was so sudden that it had blindsided all their spies and contacts in Padania. That thought was almost as disturbing.
Jean broke the silence with, "Do you have a list of the deceased?"
Lorenzo nodded and said, "It just so happens I do. I looked over it myself after I'd gotten the news." The old man produced a manila folder from a desk drawer and handed it to Jean.
Lorenzo studied him as Jean pored over the contents of the folder. In due course, Jean said, "It's got to be a mistake."
"I admit, that's what I had thought, too. That Selvaggio and Cremachi died but Giannini lived seems to be some sort of good fortune for us. Giannini is a charismatic leader, a skilled tactician and an excellent soldier. With both Selvaggio and Cremachi dead, he's certain to be put in command of First Squad, and that can only be a good thing. And that's what bugs me about the whole thing."
"It's too good to be true?"
"Not just that. In his debriefing, Giannini swore, swore that he heard gunfire and an explosion coming from inside, after all of our guys had pulled out."
"You think the cyborgs aren't working for the PRF?"
"No, all I'm saying is that there are too many pieces of this puzzle that we don't have, yet. I can't say anything for certain besides the fact that however I look at it, it doesn't add up."
The rest of it fit nicely if the PRF and these cyborgs weren't playing for the same team, but it raised another very important question. If these cyborgs who had butchered Section One weren't with the PRF, for whom did they work? If they were with the PRF, why the gunfire? An elaborate distraction? How did they miss taking out Giannini when they were able to kill Selvaggio so easily? The Chief was right; it didn't seem to make any sense.
"Sir, you were saying? About Claes and Angelica?"
"When you had done the research on the Lauro/Elsa case, before we found the real killer," both men exchanged knowing looks, "you had initially recommended that the chances of survival for a single fratello were much worse than for a pair of them."
"In the scenario where the fratello was being hunted by unknown assailants, as was the case for Lauro and his cyborg," again the stress on that phrase was not lost on either man, "then, yes."
"I'm going to give the go-ahead to double up staff on all assignments."
"You think our agents themselves might be targeted?" Jean asked, somewhat surprised.
"I hope I'm wrong, Jean, but I'm not one to take chances. I'm going to look into having Claes and Angelica returned to active duty as well, to be used solely to provide backup– "
"Claes? What good will she do?"
The late afternoon sun shone in through the window behind him, casting long shadows on the floor of the room, harbingers of the coming darkness. The sunlight glinted off the older man's glasses, completely hiding his eyes. "If you and a friend are alone and unarmed in the jungle and being chased by a tiger, what's the single, best thing you can do to increase your chances for survival?"
Jean figured Lorenzo wasn't expecting an answer so he shrugged and said nothing.
"Trip your friend and run."
Next: Knockdown