Fantasy Whatever Gets You through the Night by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Because her study had been the castle's War Room in days of old, the walls were made of 12-inch thick stone and the doors were heavy, solid oak. The room also contained a secret passage to La Contessa's bedroom and an old escape tunnel from the castle, which was why Helen preferred to work in here. A modern, more secure War Room was now located in the Government Wing. Since the door was too thick for the person knocking on the other side to hear her shout for them to enter, she pressed a button on her desk that connected to the light outside the door, causing it to blink on and off, letting them know to come in. The door opened.

A page entered and announced the arrival of Capitan Gregorio Ortega, commander of La Squadra de Ultimados, San Finzione's elite Special Forces and personal guard of La Familia Royale. It was the position held by Generalissimo Ramirez before Helen made him Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces. She bade him enter and the Capitan arrived, hat under his arm. He stood at attention and saluted. Helen returned it with the salute that he now understood meant "I respect you and what you do for San Finzione and myself, however, please understand that I never agreed to salute people a couple of hundred times a day, nobody told me it'd be part of the job; so, just pretend I gave you an 'at ease,' wouldn't you just be a dear?"

"You don't usually pay visits, Gregorio." Helena said in Spanish, taking out a cigarette. She'd been too preoccupied to light one until now. "I was talking to Ramirez earlier about how it's ok to bring me bad news, but I'm hoping you're not here to tell me something's happened to an Ultimado today as well."

"No, Contessa." Ortega responded. "I have come to inform you that Sgt. Ignátios Pappas has been assigned to Señor Poldouris' protection."

Helena nodded. She knew Pappas; another young, hot-headed Greek. He and Stavro tended to get along.

"Thank you, Capitan. That's the sort of thing you'd normally just send a messenger to tell me or just put into a report and wait until I read it, though. Is there something else?"

The Capitan stepped forward and set his hat on the coffee table but refused to sit until La Contessa gestured for him to do so. This seemed to be a day for people to have things to say to her.

"Si, Contessa. A personal matter."

Helen rolled her chair closer and leaned forward slightly, concerned that if she did it too much, she'd look like she was fishing for gossip rather than paying attention. Ortega wasn't the same type of leader that the Generalissimo was. Coming to her with a personal concern wasn't like him. Helen had thought Susan put it well when she described the two as "Ramirez is Kirk; down on the planet, shoulder-rolling toward the Klingons to draw fire away from his men. Ortega's Picard, right down to the hair; knowing that his skills are better used up on the bridge, calling the shots, and letting Riker handle the 'sticking his neck out for the others down below' part." Susan had a unique perspective that made her strangely good at reading people, which was an essential part of the ability they all shared.

"I'm listening, Gregario." She told him with a drag of her cigarette.

"At the crime scene earlier." He began. "You did not leave with the Generalissimo or any Policia accompanying you."

"The Poldouris home was just around the corner. You had two Ultimados watching me through sniper scopes and another two in the shadows the whole time; at the very least, right?"

"Si. This is not the point."

"You think it was reckless of me to casually stroll away from a murder scene unescorted, don't you?"

The Capitan nodded.

"My dear, departed husband, Forever Does He Reign in Our Hearts," Ortega muttered the devotion along with her. "Told me once that not only is San Finzione a safe and peaceful nation, but that our entire existence depends upon us staying that way. I need to show The People and the tourists that La Contessa is unafraid to walk the streets of her own city without an armored car and full SWAT escort. That she can leave the scene, not callously; rather, unquestioningly confident that her Policia will take care of this, knowing that she is entirely safe."

"I believe there was a prime minister of Sweden who thought similarly." Ortega mused aloud.

Helen took a long drag before replying.

"Olof Palme, I've heard that story, too. He dismissed his protection, he BELIEVED he was that safe. He didn't have you and the Ultimados watching him. I knew the moment you heard I'd taken a personal interest in a crime scene and was leaving the castle, the Ultimados would be there before me." She thought for another drag. "Plus, Palme was going to the theater, like Lincoln. Vincenzo was smart enough to put a cinema and soundstage in the castle. Which worked out great for me, because it gave me a set for interviews and a place where I can screen dailies now that screening dailies is a thing I sometimes do."

As Helen put out her cigarette, it crossed her mind that someone needed to call Eliot's family, and that it should be her. She picked up her phone to text the Prefect to allow her to make the call if it hadn't been done already. Capitan Ortega waited patiently, knowing his Contessa was a busy woman.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"It was no reckless decision, Capitan. I don't make those unless I need to. It was a calculated decision based upon the knowledge that you and La Squadra de Ultimados were on the job."

Ortega nodded. La Contessa had spoken, the matter was settled.

"And how are you doing, Contessa?" He asked in English.

The question caught Helen off guard. One of the things that made her agree with Susan's assessment of the man as Captain Picard was his "all business, all the time" demeanor. If Ortega wanted to know something about her, he'd go read her file. It sounded too much like a question that Ramirez would have asked.

"The Generalissimo said that he had a personal matter to take care of today." Helen mused. Ortega said nothing. If he'd been asked or ordered by his commander to ask the question, he didn't reveal. "But that's ok. Ramirez is where he always is: Right where I need him to be." Helen lit another cigarette, realizing that she still hadn't answered the question. "I've been better, Gregario. Losing People Who Matter seems to be a recurring theme in my life, and I've never learned to like it. So, it takes a lot for me to be able to tell someone my feelings. Oh, I can do it as La Contessa, 'Oh, I just simply LOVE that,'" Helena gushed, then stopped and went back to talking like a person. "And I'll call someone on being an ass, but telling someone sincerely 'Hey, you're cool; I like you...'"

Helen trailed off. The Capitan rose to his feet and picked up his hat.

"I should see about the boy's detail." He told her. "La Policia will be releasing him soon. Gracias, Contessa."

She wanted to tell him to stay and talk. Jeanne wasn't around, but someone could bring tea. Hey, Earl Grey Hot, even! Helen then figured out that she was making him uncomfortable. The Generalissimo had probably sent him to make sure Helena's mental state was all right. Whatever he'd hoped to accomplish, Ortega wasn't the man for the job, and he knew it. She collected herself and stood as well.

"Thank you, Capitan." She replied in English. He left the room.

Helen sat back down and turned to her desk. She took a drag of her cigarette and picked up her phone. She messaged for a page to bring her a cup of hot cocoa, then set the phone down. She knew what the Capitan's next move would be once he'd left her in a questionable emotional state.

After all, he'd read her file. And he knew what it said was the next thing to do. And she knew he'd do it.

She turned back to the screen and read more about Heinrich Dietz while she awaited her cocoa and the inevitable call from Troy Equals.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Whatever Gets You through the Night Pt. 06

"I can pull a rabbit

out of a hat.

I can pull it out,

but I can't put it back.

I can make love... disappear.

For my next trick, I'll need a volunteer.

Step right up!

For my next trick, I'll need a volunteer."

-Warren Zevon, "For My Next Trick, I'll Need A Volunteer"

Note: This story is dedicated to Stan Lee, a great Jewish writer. It involves Nazis, whom he wrote many comics about punching and killing. Steven Spielberg, who's made a movie or two about fighting Nazis is also involved. In the words of Tolkien, "I have no ancestors of that gifted race,"

Nazis are bad and evil, and they will be portrayed as such. There are NOT good people on that side, and as La Contessa would say, "nothing you do to them is wrong, because they don't steal nice and polite like you and me; they live, eat, and breathe fucking people over." If you have an issue with that notion, this story is not for you, and you'll be wanting the little X in the top-right corner. I don't really want YOU reading my work, anyway. If you have a problem with a writer putting their own politics into their Political Thriller Murder Mystery, keep your precious little opinonlet to yourself; we've all heard it before, save time again: Top Right Corner, Big ol' X.

* * *

"I never asked for this."

Gino Giovanni, the young actor playing Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione spoke to the grown men gathered in the cave with him. Cigarette smoke rose up to the roof of the cave from the actors' cigarettes, but also from the one held by Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She sat next to Larry Compton, the assistant director whom she'd informed of his promotion.

"Three months ago, my father was explaining wine exports to me. Two months ago, the Nazis murdered him and my mother. And an hour ago, I stopped crying about it. I have been too busy being a grieving child to claim my birthright. But claim it, I do. And I'll take it back from the bastards who stole it all! You are the ones who rescued me from sharing their fate. You are not the ones who started this; they are. But you told them that I was whom they must deal with to finish it! General Schell started this, and I WILL finish it! I ask that you finish it with me!

"You, who rescued me from certain death. You, who have lost loved ones to keep me hidden from the SS. You who had faith that the San Finziones of old would show their descendant the way. Now, they have. And I ask that you join me in seeing it to the end. We shall finish this together, you and I. My finishers... my... Squadra de Ultimados."

The Resistance fighters cheered. Even though the young actor was approaching his 20s, Helen cheered as well. The director yelled "CUT," said the take was good, and called shooting for the day. The cast dispersed and the crew began shutting down the set.

"We can edit out your cheer, Contessa." Compton turned to her and said. "I thank you again for the promotion. And I'm still sorry about how it's come about. Eliot was a nice guy."

"Yeah, he was." Helen responded, never being entirely sure how to handle condolences. She hadn't really had time to mourn her mother before being whisked into the foster care system. And a cup of Propappou's cocoa that evening took care of any bad feelings she might have had left about Wade's death that afternoon.

"I have to say, though." Helen told him with a drag of her cigarette. "This Gino Giovanni kid's going to make it big. He looks just like Vincenzo!" She muttered the last part. "At the wrong age..."

Larry started to roll his eyes, then remembered who he was talking to and stopped, trying to cover the gesture by pretending to scratch an itch on the back of his neck.

"He tried to fight the studio for you on that." He informed her. "Personally, if I thought anyone could pull it off, it would've been Eliot. If you knew him, Contessa, you know he was obsessed with Spielberg." Helen nodded at that. "HE might have been able to direct an 11-year-old through that scene and make him believable. I know my limitations."

"My husband was an unbelievable man, Mr. Compton. I'll try harder not to micromanage because you'll be crowded now. Until we can catch Eliot's killer, you'll be getting security officer protection. That's an order from La Contessa AND your boss."

"Thanks again, Contessa. This script's brilliant!"

Helen nodded.

"It took a lot of time to find the right one."

"I'd love to see more of the writer's work, but I can't find anything else by this Juliessa Skankeko."

"It's her first work, and it's pronounced 'Julie is a skanky cow.'" Helen replied with a long drag. "Our studio hasn't been around long enough to lose a director before. Either through firing, quitting, or..." She took a shorter drag. "This. I've hired them, but I've never promoted someone to the job. Head back to the studio, I've already informed them; they'll know the procedures."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Larry nodded solemnly. He turned to leave, when Helena spoke again.

"Wait." She told him, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. He turned back.

"Yes?"

Helena walked up to him, looking into her new director's eyes.

"Tell me if you had anything to do with Eliot's murder." She commanded under her breath.

"No." Compton answered plainly.

"Tell me if you know Heinrich Dietz."

"Who?" He puzzled.

"Forget I asked. Both things." She commanded again, smiling. "Nothing. I just look forward to working with you."

"One down." Helen thought.

He left for the studio, policia escort accompanying him. Helen looked around the cavern. They were a tourist attraction for history buffs, and Helen had visited more than once to view the displays of her husband as a boy on the cusp of manhood leading the Resistance from and hiding in the old depths.

Those depths were, nowadays, filled with bright lights, warning signs, yellow and black reflective tape, and other modern conveniences that had to be removed for filming. Helen proceeded back toward the entrance. Once she was off the set, all those things returned until she was back in the rays of the disappearing sun over San Finzione.

Helen checked the time on her phone, then put it back in her black Prada Arcade bag while she waited for Scappa to bring the car around.

* * *

Detective Inspector Luc Tomas Allaine entered the San Finzione office of Interpol. Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez accompanied him. Agent Giuseppe Fontaine came out of his office to greet them.

"Detective Inspector." He turned to acknowledge Ramirez. "Generalissimo." Giuseppe turned back to Luc. "We've cleared out an office for you."

"Merci." Luc responded, reaching into his bag. "My first task for you, Agent Fontaine, is to send someone to Naples with this." He produced an envelope and handed it to the Agent. "I did not have time to stop on my way. Inside is a key to safe deposit box #2256 at Biblioteca della Banca d'Italia and my letter of authorization for them. This box contains all of my current information on Heinrich Dietz. We will need it."

Agent Fontaine nodded and showed Luc to the office they'd cleared for his stay. He thanked the man, and the agent went to find someone to put on a flight to Naples.

Even from behind a desk, Luc had made enemies other than those in his department. A number of organized crime figures and hate groups wanted to see him dead. As a result, Luc had taken the precaution of opening a string of safe deposit boxes across Europe containing the information he had on the people most likely to kill him.

"You said that Dietz was dangerous and that you'd had death threats. I thought nothing of it because Generalissimos get those calls and letters, too. You didn't say you had a box on him, Luc." Ramirez told him evenly. "This means that he knows you as well."

"Oui. I chose not to say because I knew you wouldn't have let me come if I had told you."

"No, I would not! If I'd known this, I'd have called the airport and told them to refuse to let your flight land in this country! I'd have given your picture to La Policia and Border Patrol and told them to arrest you and send you home!" He took a breath. "I'd have... told The Cultured Woman to keep you at home."

"You didn't ask, old friend." Luc said, sitting behind the desk and turning on the computer they'd provided. He waited for the desktop to come up, then emailed headquarters to let them know he'd arrived and was taking charge. Nobody in his department would particularly care that he was gone, however, procedure demanded it. "And if you'd stopped me coming, I'd have simply found another way, and then you'd have Dietz AND myself to hunt down. This way, I get to come to dinner."

Luc looked at the monitor, examined the desktop, then produced a portable hard drive from his bag and began copying over files.

"It will take at least overnight for me to set this thing up correctly!" He proclaimed. At that moment, Agent Fontaine returned.

"I've got someone leaving now." He informed Luc. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Detective Inspector?"

"Not just yet." Luc replied, getting up. "We stopped in so that I could do three things: Check in with you, give you that envelope, and start transferring the things that I will need onto le micro. That last, I expect to take until morning; everything should auto-install, just let it run, so I came straight here from the airport. I will go check the crime scene, since I imagine it is closer; then I will be staying with the Generalissimo's family at Fort Ernesto. I'm not certain of the address; given how this country seems to operate, it is, in all probability, 'The Generalissimo's House at Fort Ernesto.' I will want everyone in for a briefing at 0700. I shall be here on time to give it. We'll need everyone on this, Agent Fontaine."

Ramirez gave the Agent his real address.

"Si, sir." Fontaine said with a sharp nod, then departed. Once he was out of earshot, Luc grabbed his bag off the desk and turned to Hernando.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"You see? An eager beaver looking to please. I mean, Oui, I do want everyone on this and it's completely serious, but you saw that. They need me, too."

Ramirez nodded his understanding, watching his old friend work again. It had been years, and Luc had known a bit less about computers before choosing to sit in front of one every night for work. The old energy was still there, though. Luc had A Case. Coffee and other stimulants now would be redundant. That Dietz knew who he was as well and that he'd not even known enough to tell them to land Luc's flight at the base so he'd be under Ultimados guard immediately still stung, but he would recover.

"Si. That is why I've been quiet. You are doing your thing; so, stand back and possibly learn something. I shall consider your decision not to warn me of the box 'new information.' So, what is our next move?"

Luc sighed before responding.

"Our next move, Hernando, is to look at the crime scene, then go to your home and see Violeta and the little ones. I do not quite have my head in the game yet. And the sooner we tell her about Sam, and I hug my godchildren, the sooner I can get it off my shoulders and focus on this."

* * *

Luc and Ramirez stood outside the townhouse where Eliot Silverman had been staying and where he'd been shot on the sidewalk out front. He looked up one end of the street, then turned to look toward the street where the Poldouris Family Butcher Shop was located.

"A quaint neighborhood." He told Ramirez. "Very homey."

"Si, not many touristas come here."

"No, I would imagine not. And there was a crowd when you arrived?"

"Si."

Luc looked back and forth down the street again.

"I take it that the home with the security officer cruiser out front is the boy's?" Ramirez nodded. Luc looked again as a thought began to boil. "The fact that I see no Ultimados tells me that you have them on the job as well. And he was playing alone? Unsupervised?"

"There are no pedophiles in San Finzione." The Generalissimo replied with grim pride. "La Contessa... sees to it personally that children are safe here." He added after a moment. Luc understood, having been told the truth about La Contessa's strange power during a previous crisis. "As for El Ultimados, San Finzione is not a large country; they know where all the best hiding spots are."

"I see. Why was the director at home when they were making a film at the castle? Wouldn't they need their director?"

"I asked La Contessa the same question earlier. It was a habit of his to go home for lunch and have a special American spaghetti-like food from childhood."

"So, who called in the gunshot?" Luc asked before turning to his friend. He gestured to the lights in the windows along the streets and the streetlights that had activated on their way to the scene. "It's Sunday night, this happened hours ago. People are home, and some have been home all day. It has not rained today?" Ramirez shook his head. "I know that this is a Catholic Nation, but surely, not everyone who lives on this street goes to the same Noon Mass. And no one noticed anything was amiss until the boy ran to one of your public safety statues. Then you have sirens, flashing lights, and people barking orders around the corner, so of course, you take notice. But a gunshot is not worth your attention? Video games and bad behavior would not explain EVERY child on the street except one staying indoors."

"They are called Propappous, Si. We make movies in San Finzione; The People are starting to write such things off as 'they must be making a movie over there.' Almost always, people still report sounds of gunfire to La Policia. I can get that from LeGrasse,"

Luc took out his cigarettes and offered Ramirez one. He lit them both while he thought. The Generalissimo offered his own thoughts to him.

"I understand now why Dietz was so concerned about his face being seen; because if you recognized him instantly, others in your profession will also know him."

"Mmm." Luc agreed. "I believe that your country, Mentirosa, and Uongo are the only ones where he has no price on his head. Bounty hunters giving your country the kind of tourism you do not want may further complicate matters." His eyes lit on a mailbox that read "Le Bessons," and smiled. Luc walked up to the door and rang the bell. After a few moments, two young women emerged.

"Bon Noir, Mesdames." Luc addressed them with a small bow and a display of his badge. The two smiled and held hands as Luc continued in French. "My friend, whom you may recognize, and I are looking into affairs this afternoon." He gestured to Ramirez, who removed his hat and stood at attention, clicking his heels. Luc turned back to the women, trying not to crack up. "Were either of you at home at the time?"

"Oui," the taller brunette said. "Emilia was out; I work from home."

"So, you were here working when the gun went off next door?" Luc asked.

"Oui. I heard it." She said.

"But you did not even go and look?"

"Angelique does not take interest in these things until she sees them on the screen." The shorter blonde replied. Angelique nodded confirmation.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I didn't know anything had really happened. I knew there was going to be a gunshot, so I heard it and kept working."

"You knew it was going to happen?" Luc asked.

"Oui," Angelique replied. "We got the notice."

Luc looked puzzled. Emilia reached into the wastebasket by the door and pulled out a crumpled piece of red paper with a bit of tape stuck to it.

"We've been getting these since 'San Finzione Shakedown.'" Emilia explained, handing it to Luc.

Luc uncrumpled it and read the notice with the logo of San Finzione Studios. It was dated three days prior and notified of filming in the neighborhood between the hours of Noon and Two PM. It also advised that gunfire and explosives would be used. Therefore, the streets should be kept clear and no one should worry about loud noises at that time.

"So, hearing such things is commonplace for you now?" Luc asked, putting it together.

"As they say," Angelique answered. "Nothing happens between 12 and 2 in San Finzione. They used to say it more often."

"Oui." Emilia replied. "We like living in a neighborhood nice enough to film, but then something like this happens next door."

She took hold of Angelique's hand again. Luc noticed it.

"It was an aberration, ladies. One of those Things that They say Happen. La Policia are watching your street tonight." Luc produced an evidence bag from his pocket and placed the crumpled notice inside. "This will be dusted for prints. La Policia might ask for your fingerprints. Merely so that yours and mine can be distinguished from whomever put this on your door. I shouldn't worry."

They thanked the Detective Inspector and he returned it, then returned to the sidewalk and clapped the Generalissimo on his shoulder, careful to avoid the pointy stars.

"Don't do that fucking Watson shit when I'm working." Luc laughed. Ramirez laughed back.

"Sorry, it's just good to see you doing it again."

"Merci, this flyer is an interesting development. Dietz made certain the streets were clear when he acted. A short con that he won't be able to pull on us a second time. Sadly, he only needed it to work that once."

"Those are printed by the studio and handed out a few days before. This is a fake. They change the paper color weekly to prevent this sort of thing. I saw the current notices on La Collina when I went to the castle and they are pink this week. La Policia accompany them and they knock on doors and try to tell people directly before leaving flyers."

"Oui. However, not many would care that it's not the right color. As the women suggested, they get these things frequently. Others probably did the same as them: Came home, saw the notice taped to the door, took it off, noted the date and time, then tossed it in the trash. I'd be willing to bet that if we took a stroll down the street, we'd notice tape or leftover adhesive from its recent removal, on every door except the victim's. Because HE would have spotted a fake in an instant! Probably had to do it while he was at work, then take them down before he got home if Dietz knew his habit of coming home for lunch."

"Si. It is either a forgery or a mole at the studio got him some old ones. By the time anyone would take serious notice, he'd be gone without a trace. The child spoiled the entire plan."

They both knew the boy's name; however, just because they were covered by hidden Ultimados didn't mean there wasn't someone else hiding in a different shadow listening in, so both avoided it.

"We could go to the studio right now, Luc. Find out who has access and get the address, send El Ultimados."

"Too soon. Anyone with access to a printer or a photocopier and some colored paper could have made this. The way he operates, the address will be false or a trap. Our best hope for assistance tonight would be a rightfully grumpy night watchman whose job is not to go digging through the studio's files for us. No force on Earth could stop him from complaining to everyone he meets tomorrow; then our mole knows we're onto him. Better to pursue it during the day, when we can sniff out his mole and potentially catch them unaware. We know something that he does not know that we know yet, and that is something good. Speaking of things that are good, our next stop should be your home. Let's see what's for dinner."

Ramirez agreed and they walked back to his car with an arm around each other, still chuckling over what had just happened.

"You clicked your fucking heels!" Luc laughed as they got in. "Who in the fuck does this?"

* * *

After a quick stop at the front gate to make it understood that Luc was a guest of the Generalissimo and got the passes to come and go as he pleased, as well as arrange a staff car and driver for him while he was here, the driver let them off in front of the Generalissimo's house. The first thing that they noticed when they got out was La Contessa's limousine parked on the street.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"It would appear that La Contessa could not wait to meet you." Ramirez told Luc.

The front door opened, and tiny feet ran down the porch toward them.

"Papa!" 8-year-old Luis and 6-year-old Marta Ramirez called as they ran toward them. "Padrino!" Each of them barreled into one of Luc's legs and hugged it.

The children began dragging him into the house. Hernando followed, laughing at the children too busy to hug their Godpapa to remember Papa right behind him. They hadn't seen Luc in a while either. He eventually pulled them off of his legs so he could climb the stairs and try to evade their kid questions about why Godpapa Sam wasn't with him. They entered the house.

Contessa Helena de San Finzione was seated on a couch in the living room. She wasn't smoking; she wouldn't around El Niños. Violeta Ramirez was standing from the one on the adjoining wall and asked La Contessa to excuse her as she approached Luc.

"Kiss me, you damn queer." Violeta laughed, throwing her arms around him. Luc hugged back and did so. La Contessa rose to her feet as the Generalissimo hung his jacket and hat.

"Contessa." He said to her as she walked over to shake Luc's hand. "I did not expect to see you here. I'd planned to bring Luc to the castle tomorrow."

"I had some time after picking a new director, so I figured I'd take advantage of your shooting range. The castle doesn't have what you'd call a 'gun range;' and it scares the twins when I use my Rose Garden. They're with their father right now, but I should get out of the habit." Ramirez nodded, confirming that he knew all this. "So, in the neighborhood, you might say." She turned to Luc. "It's nice to meet you at last, Detective Inspector. San Finzione doesn't have an order of knighthood, I'm afraid. If we did, you'd be one by now for the things you've done for us. Ramirez, too, just for letting me know you exist."

Luc bowed and kissed her hand. Helen smiled and gave a little giggle.

"I am honored, Contessa, and I must thank you for the lovely gift."

While Luc's head was bowed, Helen gave Ramirez a confused look. The Generalissimo took his own iPad out of his briefcase and held it up. Helen gave him an "Oh, right; what I'd have done if I'd been thinking. Thanks" nod, then turned back to let Luc up before responding with a curtsy.

"Everyone's off the clock here, Luc." Helena replied. "Helena will be fine. That's what Violeta and the kids call me. And I know Hernando won't, but you've got permission to call me that as well." She turned to Ramirez. "You have a dinner guest who's just gotten off a flight, and I have a guest arriving tomorrow to prepare for, myself. You remember Mander, Hernando."

Luc's ears perked up. Both to the name and Hernando's attempt at a stifled groan.

"Would that be NIGEL Mander?"

Helena heard the all-caps when Luc spoke Mander's first name. She turned back to him and smiled.

"He prefers just 'Mander.' I had a feeling you'd know him professionally." The detective nodded. "Yes, he'll be at the castle tomorrow, and I hope you come as well." Helena thought a second. "I should advise you, Luc; that, by order of La Contessa, Nigel Mander has a Blanket Pardon in San Finzione for All Crimes, Past, Present, and Future."

Luc nodded. Helen leaned into him closer to whisper so the children wouldn't hear.

"I sometimes need him to do crimes. You want one, too? I can just write those things up."

"Er, not just yet. I only brought one bag; however, still need to unpack. I've heard good things about the San Finzione Marketplace. My supervisor, I'm sure, would allow me to expense an entire new wardrobe if it keeps me out of the office."

"We can sort that out in the morning." Helen responded, wrinkling her nose and taking out her cigarette case. Ramirez, who'd been standing in the entryway the entire time, spotted the cue and opened the door to show La Contessa out to her car. "For now, you should be sitting down to dinner and Scappa should be driving me home so he can as well."

Everyone else said goodbye and went to the table. Once they were outside and the door was closed, Helen lit up for the walk to the limo.

"He seems nice." She told Ramirez once they were down the steps.

"He had a bad breakup. A few hours ago. Right before he left."

"I have too much respect for either of you to even offer to do The Thing to take care of it for him. He'd have to ask me for that himself. I told you it was ok to tell him about it if you haven't already."

"I have, Si. And Gracias."

Scappa started to step out of the car to open La Contessa's door. Ramirez gave him an "I got this" wave. He nodded back as Ramirez got the door for her.

"So, filming resumes tomorrow?"

"The cave battle, holding off on the hanging scene. Let the new director decide if he wants to use Eliot's setup or not. I'll probably do some public stuff tomorrow, too. Dietz doesn't seem to know who he's up against. If stopping the movie is what it's about, I'll do what Vincenzo did: Let him know who he has to deal with."

Ramirez nodded and closed the door. He waited until she was around the corner to return to his family and guest.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

In his hideout, Heinrich Dietz fumed at the men under his command.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME ABOUT THE FUCKING STATUES!!" He shouted as he paced back and forth before them. "This country is a tourist trap! None of you dummkopfs so much as bothered to pick up a fucking tourist guide before we came! I had the mission and the job ahead to think about; one of YOU was supposed to handle simple fucking preparatory research!"

"I was busy renting this place." One of them replied.

Dietz's reaction was to pull his pistol and point it at the man.

"EXCUSES GET BULLETS!" He shouted. "NOW, my face has been seen! I might have scared the child out of giving them enough for a sketch, but the man they arrested will NEVER forget my face! The moment they run it through a computer, every law enforcement agency in the WORLD will know that I am here! And they'll tear this country apart until they find me! If I hadn't gotten to kill a subhuman earlier, this would be the worst day of my life!"

"We can get you out, sir." Another said. "Before they get here."

Dietz almost turned his gun on that man, then thought that it wasn't a bad idea, then thought again. He put his gun away.

"It's too late to abort the plan. I have my orders. I am here until it is done. I suspect that it will not, therefore, I must alter the plan. Our agent at the studio says that the film is still on until La Contessa says otherwise. He is preparing for the next step. Now someone get me some motherfucking intel on HER!"

One of the men started to leave, when Dietz shouted for him to stop and pointed at a computer.

"Don't go out asking the public NOW! You'll tip them off to me! Use the fucking internet already!"

The door opened, and another Nazi returned with food. He set it on the table and removed his red wig, revealing his blond hair beneath, and saluted his leader. Dietz waved a return as he walked forward, removed a sausage from the bag, and took a bite.

"ONE of you, is, at least, good for something. Now get me information on La Contessa!"

The one who'd just removed his wig spoke up.

"Mein... leader," he corrected himself. "While at market, I heard people talking about her and what she will do about today's events. I did not ask questions, simply smiled and nodded, so as not to draw attention. But I still have much to tell you."

Dietz patted him on the shoulder.

"Your new name is Good One." he smiled. "As for La Contessa?" Almost on cue, Good One produced a postcard of La Contessa's royal portrait. Dietz took it and looked at La Contessa for the first time.

"Pretty for a mixed." Dietz said after a moment. He passed around the photo. "It is no matter; I kill women as well. I prefer their screams. Nice work, Good One." He snatched back the postcard back from the men, who'd been distracted by the pretty woman on the front of the card, and tacked it to the wall. He then drew his gun and pointed it at the picture for greater effect.

"THIS is your target! Now, study it! We strike tomorrow! Dummkopf, get on the internet! Hopefully, we'll find a hidden talent for typing and filing in you!" He turned to the second one who spoke.

"Not As Bad As Dummkopf, put on a disguise and go do what Good One was doing. Listen to people, find out more about The Contessa." He nodded and went.

Dietz grabbed a folding chair for himself and Good One. He turned his backwards and motioned to take the other in front of it.

"Now, tell me what you can about this woman." He said, pointing to the postcard of the Royal Portrait everyone, including those who hadn't spoken for fear of gaining a nickname, had been too busy looking at the pretty woman to turn the card over and read the words on the back.

Official Royal Portrait of Contessa-In-Reggenza Maria Louisa Francesca de San Finzione.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Whatever Gets You through the Night Pt. 07

"After the war in Paraguay
back in 1999,
I was laying low in Lima.
Working both sides of the borderline."
-Warren Zevon, "The Long Arm of the Law"

Scappa brought the limousine to a stop in front of the Visitors' Entrance to the Palace Wing of Castle Finzione. Out of both force of habit and belief that it was part of his duties as a Citizen of San Finzione and having been honored to serve as both Count Vincenzo and Contessa Helena's chauffer, he opened his door to get out and open the passenger's.

"S'alright, ol' fella, don't get up fer me." Nigel Mander told the old man as he opened his own door. "If ya don't mind poppin' the trunk, though, the rest's all stuff I do at home."

Scappa did so. The tall, bald man in the John Lennon sunglasses stepped into the morning sun of San Finzione. He got the two duffel bags he'd brought along out of the trunk. The first thumped as he hefted it over his shoulder. The second made lots of clattering metal sounds when he did the same. He shut the trunk and waved for Scappa to drive on before walking to the door.

One of the two guards reached for his metal-detecting wand, when the other motioned for him not to bother. He opened the door, where a page was waiting inside.

"Mr. Mander, sir." the page said. "La Contessa is awaiting you in the Ballroom. Walk this way."

"Just Mander, thanks. Imagine ya get sick of 'sirring' all day. And I can't, mate." Mander replied as he walked in and followed. "Not wit' these bags, and they look a bit big fer you."

"I understand, Mander." He replied as they walked. "My instructions from La Contessa were to phrase it that way to set you up for the joke of your choice. And I thank you for it. The guard outside who wanted to wand you? I had a ten euro bet with him that you wouldn't go for one about your arms being tired. I won."

Mander smiled at the young man and stepped forward to walk beside him. He looked down at the page.

"Ya seem like a geezer, kid. I'm plannin' to be here a day or two, and like 'Er Countessness, I weren't born to all this. Any of it, really. So, what's a bloke who ain't gonna feel right callin' ya 'Page' the whole time I'm here call ya?"

"Nunzio, sir. Mander." Nunzio the Page replied.

Nunzio led Mander to the door to the Ballroom and opened it for him. Mander investigated the darkened room beyond.

"Lights're off." He said.

"La Contessa assured me that she is awaiting you, Mander." Nunzio replied.

"Why yes, I am." A familiar voice came from loudspeakers within. "Won't you come join me, Mander?" She asked ominously.

Nunzio looked at Mander's bags.

"Are you going to be bringing weapons in there?"

"Yeah," Mander said off-handedly. "But she expects that."

"I dooooo!" Helen replied in a ghost voice. "It's ok, Nunzioooooooh!"

Nunzio nodded and held the door for Mander. Mander stepped in. Nunzio closed the door.

"Welcome to Castle Finzione, Mander." Helen's voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off the marble of the entire room. "We've been... expecting you!"

With a snap, the lights came on, revealing the grandeur of the room. Leaning over the Grand Balcony with a microphone and a huge grin was Contessa Helena de San Finzione. The big, bald merc returned the grin.

"Your Countessness has lost none of your flair for entrances. Even when it's me doing the entering."

"Figured I'd pay you back for that darkened corner." Helen replied as she set the mic down and began descending the stairs. "How's Bluey?"

"Somebody had to stay back home with The Birds." Mander replied, setting his bags down noisily. "Better since Your Countessness lifted the ban on Budweiser."

Bluey had been a friend of Mander's who'd lost his hearing and been reduced to taking the kind of shit jobs that are the only ones available to a handicapped mercenary with no other marketable skills than "killing people in exchange for money." When he took the shit job of "kill Contessa Helena de San Finzione" while Mander had the non-shit job of "protect Contessa Helena de San Finzione;" they recognized each other and Mander convinced Bluey to switch sides before he got killed with the others who'd taken the shit job.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Well, he was keeping it in a cooler tied under the dock, so it was never really ON San Finzione soil, and it was clever enough that I can't be upset. The man cheated fair and square. Plus, one of the primary virtues of this country is Hospitality. It was wrong of me to limit your ability to accommodate your guests."

"And how're the new additions to the Royal Family?"

"Good. Sorry they're not here to meet. Jeanne took them to Seattle, they're with Troy and their other family right now."

Mander got a mild look of disappointment.

"Hoped your Seattle mates'd be around as well. Claire's told 'em they're welcome to visit the island. Susan's the only one who's shown an interest."

He approached the stairs and she stopped about four stairs up so that she could, for once, stand eye-to-eye with the man who'd saved her life more than once, and for that service, had his own tropical island where he lived with his "Birds."

"You have a swimming pool." Helen told him. "I know you met them during a crisis, when Julie wasn't entirely herself. The only thing that normally puts her there is Troy going anywhere near a swimming pool. Not any other water, it's gotta be a pool. They could take a boat across the ocean to GET to Mander Island and stop to swim along the way and she'd be happy until they got there, and Julie saw the pool. She would then grab Troy by the arm and say 'Deathwater Pit! We're going home NOW, Troilus, and at least YOU are never coming back!' Why I said back before you met them the first time that one topic you do not bring up at ALL is 'You should get a pool.'"

"Noted." Mander replied, shaking her hand. "A place like this's gotta have more than one, though. Not like ya got a weird thing for them like Kiburi. I'm sure you've an employee gym in this place and so on; you've got reasons to have more than one. What do ya do with the pools you got here when they come round?"

"Procedure once we've confirmed An Equals Situation at the castle is to clear, drain, and lock down our swimming pools until they leave. That appeases Julie." Helen smiled at him again. "Come on, I'll show you to your room, it's right next to theirs. Someone can get your bags."

Mander looked back at them, then hefted the clanking metal one over his shoulder.

"Just that one, if they don't mind." He grinned.

* * *

"Business?" The castle gate guard asked the man from the studio. He'd stopped them and was questioning the driver while others inspected the van.

"Vehicle maintenance." The man in the studio maintenance jumpsuit replied.

"I thought there was to be no shooting here today." The guard asked suspiciously.

"There is not." Replied the man. "The vintage vehicles being left outdoors until filming resumes require more upkeep than simply being covered."

It sounded reasonable to the gate guard. The ones who'd been looking under the van found nothing, nor did the ones looking through their toolboxes and the vehicle, so he allowed them to enter the Castle grounds, pointing them to the set. He then raised the barrier and allowed them to pass through.

When they were out of sight of the gate, he took out his phone. When they were at the set, he called Dietz.

"We're in, sir. They bought it."

"Of course, Potentially Useful." Heinrich Dietz replied on the other end. "You have all the right paperwork. Dummkopf at least found out that, based on the last incident at the castle, a communications jammer will be activated once you begin, so this will be the last time we speak until it is over. Do I have to tell you not to fail and what to do?"

"Nein, sir." He replied as the other men began removing the coverings on the smuggling compartments inside the van. "We are all committed."

"Then Heil Hitler, Potentially Useful."

"H... heil Hitler, sir." He said before hanging up.

Potentially Useful got out of the van and started walking toward one of the Panzer tanks, untying the straps on the tarp. As he did so, the workers in the van overturned their toolboxes, dumping them onto the floor, and began filling them with belts of machine gun ammunition and shells for the main gun before getting out to begin their maintenance on the tank.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Nah, it don't work at all like the movies." Mander said to Helen as they sat at her conversation patio, having breakfast. "I mean, James Bond's world has to be fulla private armies sitting around in jumpsuits waiting for some rich asshole to need lots of disposable goons. Yeah, there's guys like me in the world and private armies exist, but movies'd have you believing they come from vending machines marked 'Hire-A-Thug.'"

"I didn't think it would." Helen said as she broke tradition for her guest and sipped some of her pint. Spending a childhood in fear of a raging alcoholic sucked any fun to be had out of drinking for her; so, she reserved alcohol for special occasions. "I remember hearing about someone putting an ad in the LA Craigslist looking for 'soldiers of fortune' because 'I have a problem, and nobody else can help.' The details that followed were of the job from the first episode of A-Team. Responses ranged from getting the joke to people calling the cops to..." She leaned forward and put of a gruff tone for the end. "I am completely willing to take this entirely serious mission for you, let's discuss my fee and the weapons and skills I bring to the table."

Mander laughed at that.

"That's the problem with hiring mercs out of the classifieds. You get back the kind of pillocks who'd put an advert in the classifieds!" He stopped laughing and took a sip of his own pint. "Someone like Dietz can't work with a regular crew, cause if they pinch you, they're a step closer to him. I don't associate with the sort who'd work with him, so all my info's third or fourth hand. I hear he's such a prick to work with that you wouldn't lose any sleep ratting him out. Snitches get stitches and all; less you're snitchin' on Heinrich Dietz; then, genpop'll probably make ya their king instead."

"I've always wondered how the Joker managed to kill his own goons so often, yet always find more willing to work for him."

"Heh, yeah." Mander replied. "Welcome to the team, I know you're all worried about Batman kicking your ass but the thing you SHOULD be worrying about is how The Boss likes to randomly kill a couple of us cause he thinks it'd be totally hilarious to kill you right at this moment."

"Exactly! If I had a crew in Gotham, we'd call ourselves 'The One-Timers,' and our gimmick would be that we don't have a gimmick. No matching outfits, no calling cards, no giving everyone names based on a theme, and anyone named 'Lefty' or 'Knuckles' Is off the team! We'd wait until there's some big museum gala or charity ball that Joker or Two-Face is sure to show up and rob. Then, WE quickly and quietly crack a bank vault or clean out a jewelry store on the other side of town; nowhere near Crime Alley. Both because of Batman and because the name implies that the banks and shops around there will already be picked clean before we arrive." Mander nodded in agreement. "Batman's going to be stopping Riddler or whoever's robbing the rich people at the event; Robin and all the others are too busy fighting those obvious crews to notice us, because we didn't do stupid shit like go into dive bars, full of other criminals who don't know us and have no real reason NOT to sell us out, to discuss the plan. We split the loot evenly, no double-crosses, no backstabbing. Then we all go our separate ways, leave Gotham, and never speak to each other again."

"I like it." Mander said, raising his glass. Helen took her own and clinked with him before drinking. "Only thing I'd add is to scope out the place first. Ya know, make sure it ain't the '2nd National Bank' or the jewelry shop ain't got no Cat's Eye diamonds, cause that's just asking for one of those two to try an' steal it." He thought some more. "Fact, just leave the diamonds for Mr. Freeze. Cause if you don't, he's just gonna try to fight you over 'the ice.'"

He took a bite of toast before speaking again.

"So, if Your Countessness does the kind of kerbstompin' on Nazis looking at real estate in her nation that I'm certain Your Countessness does," Helen nodded and turned up her lips at that. "He's got nothin' worth speaking of for local backup. Maybe a closet Nazi who pays his membership dues on time'll let 'em hole up in his basement, but that's it."

Helen took that in and nodded.

"If there was someone like that living in San Finzione, he'd have to keep it entirely to himself. Likely, it'd be the inside guy at the studio. Dietz is paranoid about being seen, so he wouldn't hide at that guy's place, because HE is both indispensable AND a direct link back to him! That's too many eggs in one basket for Dietz. They've probably never even met in person, which also explains why a plant could tip him off about the Spaghetti-Os thing; but wouldn't be able to get away to warn him about BASIC risks like Me and Propappou."

Mander agreed.

"And nobody who's worked with the asshole would do it a second time by choice. If he tried to 'get the old team back together for one last job,' they'd tell him to go get fucked. Any crew the client's gotten to agree to work with him, less they've gone the extra mile after meeting his fee and got other pros, are gonna be the kinda Muppets who'd seriously answer that Craigslist ad. I'm sure they've done plenty of killing in video games, but that's not a skill one usually brings to a team. Less the plan's to rob Nintendo or kidnap Zelda. THEN, we'll give ya a call!"

"I can see that. Another thing movies get wrong. That guy who's 'the best of the best,' so the rest of the crew let him get away with being a condescending dick to them? As long as anyone else is doing his specialty, then no, he is NOT 'the only guy who can pull off a job like this.' He's the guy you ask the others 'Do YOU know anyone else? Cause the only prick I know; I'd rather not work with again.' The only crews Wade ever got on were ones where someone felt they owed him for getting pinched last time or that he could beg, plead, or bully into taking him with them. He was usually assigned lookout, because that job's no harder than keeping an eye out and don't get so drunk you pick a fight with a beat cop walking past while we're still looting the place and blow the real team's job. So, 6 times out of 10, even he could do that job."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Yeah. Dietz's 'crack commando unit' will be more like if Roger Daltrey's backup band couldn't make it and the replacement band ain't a surprise Who reunion; it's some local garage band they found at the last minute who 'swear blind that they're good and huge fans of Robert Deltree or whoever and know ALL The Beatles' songs. That's the band you was in, right?'"

Helen allowed herself a small smile. Being a fan of Warren Zevon, she appreciated Mander's dedication to "The Masters of Old."

"Luc Allaine from Interpol stopped by earlier and is going to stop by again later." She saw Mander's expression begin to change and his hand go for his gun. "I already explained the pardon!"

Mander relaxed.

"All right. But don't go givin' me one of them Licenses to Kill, cause that'll take half the fun out of it."

"Ramirez says Luc needs Dietz alive. They're at the studio now. Luc's pretty sure Dietz has an inside man there. Someone's at least got enough on the ball to get a job on the lot. However, if the rest are the kind of Wade-level thugs you suggest, we're NOT looking at their best and brightest here. Dead Nazi's still a dead Nazi, though, whatever part of his IQ score gets splattered all over the walls."

"Oh, yeah, more dead ones will be its own reward all the same." Mander took another sip of his pint as Helen lit a cigarette. "From what I know from the news, I wouldn't think the German government's got any part in this. Your Countessness, I'm sure, would know more about anything like that than me."

"No." Helen replied with a drag. "Angela might not be the best kisser in the world, but she's no Nazi."

"Is Great-Grandmama telling the Angela Merkel story?" A third voice asked from the French doors. Mander stood up and turned to face Lady Maria Louisa Francesca de San Finzione. Maria dropped the big novelty checks she'd been holding and ran to him with a flying hug. Mander grabbed the princess and spun her around before setting her down. "I have not seen you since Uongo!"

"Your Princessness is always welcome to come visit the island." Mander turned to Helen and stage-whispered. "Lemme know ahead of time so's I can tell the Birds to dress nice."

"And what are your plans for the day, Dearest One?" Helen asked Maria with a puff of smoke.

"I was going to see Stavro and tell him about the sketch, then I have those donations to make for you." She gestured back to the giant checks she'd dropped.

Helena smiled and nodded, then turned to Mander.

"Julie did the sketch I sent you. We had a security officer artist re-draw it and purposely get some details wrong. If we don't release something to the media soon, he'll know Stavro gave us a good one and that everyone's on to him. If he's smart at all, he'll see through the bluff."

"Si." Maria added. "He'll spot it as a trick right away. If the general public are on the lookout for the wrong man, though, this may embolden him to poke his head out and come at Great-Grandmama."

"And since we're going to be doing stuff," Helen added as well. "Maria's also going to be making a couple of sizable public donations on my behalf to let Heinrich know that I, at least, am on to him and if he's the kind of dick you've been telling me, force his hand. Local reps from the Anti-Defamation League, Simon Wiesenthal Center, Holocaust Museum; that kind of thing."

"I always wondered," Mander thought aloud. "Where Your Countessness and others who make donations with more than three zeroes get them giant checks."

"We print them up on demand." Maria explained. "The castle has a Print Shop just for things like that."

Mander turned to Helen.

"Your Countessness doesn't think maybe that flyer job was done by someone at the castle?"

"Considered. Unlikely." Helen responded with a drag. "We look in on them randomly in case someone gets the 'let's print our own Euros' idea. Only happened twice since I've been in charge, but it feels wrong. Getting a job here and infiltrating the castle to use our printing press would be a lot harder, far more effort, and would make less sense than 'someone at the studio stuffed a stack of blanks into their backpack.' And, as Luc pointed out when they stopped in earlier after briefing the local Interpol office about Dietz; I've got computers and printers all over this place, I could've pulled off a penny-ante scam like that! Hell, JEANNE could have made this, except she's on the other side of the world with the twins, so my money's on 'No' for her. Unless she and Dr. Rocco have worked out that Roboclone of her."

"Ok, valid." Mander replied. "You're probably right about someone at the studio nickin' 'em. As a general rule, your average Nazi ain't a brainbox. He might think he is, cause he's bought into all that Master Race shit. Dunning-Kruger and all that. Human nature tells me that The Path of Least Work is the way they'd go. Stealin' some old ones there'd still be a lot easier than making them at home."

"I see you two are talking business." Maria said, making her way back to the doorway to pick up checks. "I shall go take care of this. I hope you're staying for dinner, Mander."

"As always, I am at Her Countessness' Service."

"Hey," Helen interjected. "Let's not Willie Garvin things too much. We are still talking business."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Maria gave them both a "ciao" and went to leave. Once he was sure she was out of earshot, Mander spoke to Helen again.

"You sure it's a good idea makin' Her Princessness go be on TV for Your Countessness? If Dietz ain't thought of trying to get to you through her, he certainly will after you've got her on the tele handing big checks to organizations you've chosen specifically to piss him off."

Helen had considered it. However, since Mander was pointing it out, it was worth analyzing the decision, so she did so again for a moment before replying.

"Risk of the job of being Contessa. The job she's trained for all her life. She's ok. I'd never put her in any danger; there are Ultimados waiting for her at every stop, snipers to cover her transit most of the way in-between. Since Dietz's information is spotty, everything has been set up in advance to say that 'Lady Maria will be presenting in La Contessa's absence.' So, she's safe. He might SEE Maria, but she'll make it clear that I'm the one making the donation, so again, Dietz will learn who the big dog is. Using her to get to me worked once, when we met; and it's not going to work again."

"Yeah, Igazi and the tossers ya bombed back into the Stone Age are enough to make sure she's safe from kidnappers in Uongo, too. Mostly because, with all you've done for their country, you and Her Princessness get songs written about you there. Not punk; ones where you ain't'some bleedin' Euro royal like all the rest!' But also because nobody wants to risk the wrath of that big long name they gave ya, either."

"She-Demon Who Birthed All Witches." Helen corrected. "It's still my favorite; although, as of yesterday, 'San Finzione's Final Boss Monster' is moving up the charts. I was thinking yesterday how, if there's a country where a big-time racist won't find a friendly face to turn to, Uongo would be number one, right above San Finzione. I'll let 'em have the title."

"Yeah. Well, it sounds like you've got her well-protected, then. Long as they know she's not you."

"And I don't see how they could possibly do that. It's my picture all over the country, it's me who's in the tourism ads; if we weren't on the Euro and the San Finzione Lira still existed, I'd be the big face on the front and Maria would be the small one on the back. One of those things Vincenzo changed, like rewriting our National Anthem into something more positive and less racist to The Swiss. Maybe, if some shop's still selling pictures of Maria's Royal Portrait, they might grab the wrong one; or go someplace like Stavro's office and see both our pictures there. Stavro's a special case, though. Maria's his girlfriend, so of course HE'D leave that lovely portrait of her hanging on the wall near mine. Maria's only Contessa-In-Reggenza, 'countess in regency,' when I'm gone or something happens."

"Hell, we know they didn't come by plane, cause nobody could miss that 20-foot portrait of you in all green wearing the Crown Jewels that happily welcomes everyone once they leave the terminal proper to get their bags." Mander thought another moment. "Ya know, killin' the royals and taking their castle was a stock Nazi move. Demoralizes the People. Looking up at the castle every day and not seeing your flag and your royals cause they ain't comin' back, but Hitler's flag and goons crawling all over what used to be where ya once turned for Law & Justice & such. Supresses their will to fight."

"Yeah, it had the opposite effect in San Finzione..." Helen replied, considering Mander's words.

"Well, I think we can rule out 'too stupid an idea to try again' with these guys..."

Helen saw Mander's point. She put her cigarette in the ash tray and sprinted after Maria. Mander followed her at a run, but Helen was widening the gap between them toward the exit she knew Maria would take from the Castle.

* * *

Outside, Potentially Useful saw a Ferrari being brought up to the entrance. He nudged Not-As-Bad-As-Dummkopf to get him to look. The other two men with them had neither pleased nor displeased Dietz enough to get names yet.

"You see?" He whispered in German. "That's the car of a Contessa!" Not-As-Bad-As-Dummkopf nodded agreement and both men alerted the other two, who piled into the tank.

They'd only managed to load a few shells and belts for the machine gun on top. It would have to be enough. The other three took positions as Potentially Useful peeked out the scope.

Lady Maria Louisa Francesca de San Finzione walked down the steps toward her Ferrari California. As she rounded the car to get in the driver's side, the servant who'd brought it held her door.

"It's her!" Potentially Useful hissed. "Start her up!"

Maria heard noise coming from the direction of the set. She saw smoke billow from one of the Panzer tanks as its engine came to life. She looked over that direction and spoke to the servant.

"What is that?" She asked him as she handed him the checks and he placed them on the passenger seat. "They are not filming today."

"The gate guard says they're here to do maintenance on the vehicles."

As the tank started to move, Maria looked closer at the set.

"All of those old war machines and they only brought one van?" She asked.

The Panzer lurched forward as Maria tossed the checks into the car and got in.

"Run!" She told the servant. "Run for your life!"

Maria clicked on her seatbelt and looked in the rear-view mirror at the tank chugging to speed and the barrel of it's main gun turning to face Maria's car.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione beat Mander to La Familia Royale's private entrance that opened up onto the courtyard where filming was still on hold.

Even for someone who'd spent her entire childhood running from someone, it had been a long dash. She leaned against a column for a second to catch her breath while Mander caught up, still lugging his big duffel bag.

"MARIA!" She shouted to the waiting Ferrari California that her great-granddaughter had just jumped into and a servant was running away from. She looked to her right and saw the Panzer rolling toward her sports car.

Mander arrived in time for Helen to point at the tank. He didn't wait for her to tell him that there wasn't any shooting today, guessing that himself. The big, bald merc dropped his shoulder bag and drew the Desert Eagle .50 caliber pistol he usually carried.

Helen's own gun was still in her safe. The Ruger LC9 she picked after reading multiple 'Top Ten Self-Defense Guns for Women' articles and finding it at or near the top of most lists. After an incident with Mander in Seattle, one of her two spare magazines was now loaded with armor-piercing rounds. Helen still doubted even an AP 9mm would do much to a tank. Mander's Desert Eagle had a better chance than she would have.

One of the unnamed Nazis in the tank opened the hatch and manned the machine gun. He saw Mander changing his aim for the new target now presented to him, swung the barrel around, and got Mander in his sights.

He squeezed both triggers and the gun exploded.

* * *

Nigel Mander was approaching Middle-Age. Which brought with it, as with all middle-aged men, a serious interest in WWII. It meant that he'd read up on the Panzer III tank a bit better than the Nazis inside it had.

He knew that the machine gun on this model was originally designed to hold 50 caliber ammunition. However, the Wehrmacht's decision to standardize their ammo meant that the idea had been scrapped in favor of a machine gun that fit the standard. The stock Panzer III would be modifiable to accept .50 rounds; however, would come off the assembly line with a gun chiefly designed to accept .32 ammunition instead. Someone who'd carefully planned this out would have brought belts of ammo for both to be certain they had the right one.

Given the amount of preparatory research that they seemed to have done on La Contessa, Mander took the 50-50 chance that these wankers had loaded the wrong ammo. It was why, when the gunner squeezed the trigger, rather than shred the large Englishman into smaller, "Fun Sized" pieces of Englishman; the barrels, instead, chose to blow up in front of his face like Mander thought would happen.

When the explosion cleared, the last thing he saw was the barrel of Mander's Desert Eagle pointed at him.

Then there was a flash, then nothing.

"First!" Mander shouted to Helen as he ran out of the tank's path. He fired a few more rounds from the Desert Eagle into the tank's side. It penetrated the armor, however, there was no way of knowing if he'd hit anyone inside; except for the fact that it was still rolling toward Maria's car.

Maria looked in the mirror again and saw the main barrel was now facing her vehicle.

The gun fired.

Maria saw the explosion.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Whatever Gets You through the Night Pt. 08


"Death In the shape of a Panzer Battalion!

Insect of terror!

Don't run, face your fate like a man!

Cannot outrun our Panzer Battalion!"

-Sabaton, "Panzer Battalion"

Lady Maria Louisa Francesca de San Finzione believed in a "San Finzione family curse."

Her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in the Royal line were all gone, leaving only her as the last blood heir of Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione the First. He had devoted so much of his time to rebuilding his country while thinking of the best interests of The People and grieving his first wife, Contessa Sofia, that his children and grandchildren had become idlers with nothing to do but spend Grandpapa Count and The People's money.

As a result, presently, La Familia Royale's family tree, from the bottom up, in reverse-line-of-succession, read: Byroni, Vincenzo the Second, Maria, and Helena de San Finzione. There were other branches of La Familia de San Finzione. However, truthfully, they tended not to be worth speaking of.

Everyone in-between them and Vincenzo I on the tree could be read as: Expensive Car, Expensive Drugs, Expensive Car Again, Expensive Helicopter, Expensive Car A Third Time, Expensive Yacht Collision, Mob Debts, Expensive Car A Fourth Time, Expensive Drugs, Trying To Buy Expensive Drugs From The Wrong People, Oh Hell One More Expensive Car; with the surprise twist at the end of Eight Expensive Cars And All Aboard.

"The Last Little Piece of Me That Shall be Left When I Am Gone" was not going to be lost by him the same way! Vincenzo took his great-granddaughter under his wing and tried to teach the little girl everything he knew about how to bring a nation back from the brink of post-war economic extinction and guide its people to a better future.

Vincenzo the First died the same year that Maria became old enough to drive on her own. Because of her family's history, she was terrified of the idea of an extremely powerful and expensive vehicle. She almost looked into being a princess on a motorcycle, but a couple of the cousins who'd been on the same level as her on the tree had gone that way as well.

Because Lady Maria was, in fact, a real princess, and a role model to girls her age and younger, setting the example that success need not spoil a person and that being born wealthy and beautiful need not always speak of poor character; she had to appear just as successful as she was personable. La Familia Royale's roots were Italian and San Finzione had no auto industry. Those things and long-standing trade ties to Italy; severed only because of and restored after Mussolini, meant that, for political reasons, the car also had to be Italian.

It would simply not do for the future Contessa de San Finzione to drive herself to red carpet events and emerge from an overly modest Fiat Hatchback. She wouldn't be able to get around needing to drive something that was stylish enough to make little girls say "I want to be like Lady Maria and drive a car like that someday," and their older siblings to say "Well, maybe a sports car doesn't HAVE to equate to a middle-aged guy's dick! I mean, Lady Maria seems nice. Hey, when does she turn 18 again?"

Great-Grandpapa had a saying whereby he didn't mean literally that Lamborghini and Cocaine specifically had killed more of his family than the Crusades and the Renaissance combined. He'd simply meant that fast, expensive cars tended to be the Serious Cop in a Buddy Cop movie where The Captain forces him to work with a new partner, that Psycho Nutball Transfer, Drugs. They work out their differences, find out they're not so different after all, and work together to take down The Bad Guy; represented in the analogy by La Familia Royale de San Finzione. Maria, nonetheless, took his words to heart, so that ruled out a Lamborghini for her.

Most of the acceptable manufacturers on the list like Bugatti would be custom-designed and priced beyond the hopes of all those girls who'd just turned 16 and grown up alongside her on television. Therefore, without Maria's asking, they looked to a rich and famous person their own age like her to tell them what THEIR dream car was. So, it couldn't be an unattainable dream for those youngsters, rather a "someday" thing they could strive for. Eventually a compromise was reached, and Maria agreed to something sporty and under a quarter-of-a-million American Dollars. The Ferrari California met the criteria, so that became "The Car that, if you're a decent person and navigate this Life thing correctly, you have a chance of one day driving; JUST like Princess Maria!"

La Familia's curse still loomed over Maria's head, which made her an extremely cautious driver, setting another good example for young people. She occasionally had a few down at the Taverna with Stavro and her friends, however always had a trustworthy ride home and made it back to the castle safely. Even if her Great-Grandmama had to send her entire Armed Forces to make certain that SHE, and if possible, the car, get home undisturbed and unmolested. Lest Great-Grandmama invoke powers that nobody liked less than Great-Grandpapa and that he'd often considered doing away with. On the other hand, having fought against Hitler, Vincenzo I recognized that he MIGHT one day meet The Man Who Did Not Deserve Any Mercy Whatsoever and wish he hadn't given them up.

He'd also had a suspicion who that man might be, so he left his beloved second wife with the powers in place to deal with him in the event he'd been right about what Generalissimo Armando Santori might try to pull after he was gone. Count Vincenzo died at the age of 79, never meeting The Man Who Did Not Deserve Any Mercy Whatsoever. Making him, to Maria, the exception that proved that the curse was real. "Great-Grandpapa had been a GOOD man, and HE didn't die like the others!"

Not only had his second wife been CONCEIVED by The Man Who Did Not Deserve Any Mercy Whatsoever, Helen was constantly having to deal with His Dick Cousin and Loser Buddies Who Don't Deserve Any Either showing up so often that she has to change her phone number periodically to stop them from calling HER because the Dick Cousin's constantly giving it out as "his number."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena, in her early days, when she was still getting used to the concept that Maria saw her as a parent and Helen should act accordingly, followed her Beloved Husband's wishes to take care of her. One of the ways that she had NOT done this incorrectly was to enroll Maria into a series of professional driving courses starting at the age of 14. And because Great-Grandmama's criminal mind couldn't help thinking the unthinkable, once she'd received the highest marks from all her tutors; whom Helen used The Thing to make certain weren't just giving them to please La Contessa, also enrolled Maria into stunt-driving courses so that she would know what to do if the unthinkable happened.

It was for this reason that, the moment Maria saw that the barrel of the tank's main cannon was pointed at her sports car, instinct kicked in, and she put the car in gear and stomped on the gas pedal. She sped away unharmed from the explosion that sent everyone else nearby to the ground from its shockwave. The gate guard registered the rapidly accelerating vehicle uncharacteristically speeding toward him as Lady Maria's in time to lift the barrier for her to leave the Castle with only minor chips and cracks.

* * *

Contessa Helena de San Finzione was trying to recover both her hearing and leaning against a marble column to try to get back on her feet and restore her balance from her proximity to the blast when the tank fired a second time, blowing a hole in the castle wall and building speed toward it.

Mander had been far enough away from the blast to have retained his footing. Unfortunately, the tank was building speed away from him. He saw the body of the one he'd shot in the head get tossed onto the tank, dangling over a tread, before the hatch closed. When he recognized he could never catch up with it but saw that it's course would intercept Maria as she wound her way down La Collina, he ran to Helen. He saw her state and helped steady her, fishing a spare pair of foam earplugs out of his pocket and giving them to Helen.

Helen didn't know if putting them in her ears while they were still ringing was beneficial or harmful but didn't have time to Google it. She mentally flipped a coin and put them in. At least they'd stop ringing before the next round, if the tank had more loaded. She recovered her balance and tried to will the ringing to stop. She looked over at the van.

"Maybe up to six in that van and you got one!" Helen needlessly yelled, too busy thinking about the situation to notice that Mander had still been wearing his since his flight there. "They'd have to smuggle the ammo past the gate! Can't have had time to load it all!"

Mander turned to her and used sign language, which, being a language, Helen understood.

"That thing can get up to about 55 kph." He signed to her as they speed-walked up the stairs to his bag. "And they won't be using that machine gun again. She'll outrun it Bob's Yer Uncle."

"No!" Helen shouted a little less as the ringing started to decrease. "Maria won't endanger The People! She'll try to do what Vincenzo would do: Stay in his sights and let the fucker TRY and hit her in that car! He's gotta run out of shells sometime!"

Mander nodded as they reached his bag and he opened it, revealing the cornucopia of weapons and ammunition within. He took out an AK-47, set it on the ground next to him, then fished in the bag for a couple of other objects that he produced and handed to Helen.

Helen took the old Vietnam-Era "Blooper" grenade launcher and two rounds for it. Mander slung the AK over his shoulder and was about to sign to Helen how to load and use it when, to his surprise, she flipped it open and did so herself.

"I hang out with Ultimados a lot! You learn things!" She nudged her head, able to hear things over the ringing now, but still muted by the foam plugs. "Garage is this way!" She started running, Mander running behind, shouting over her shoulder as she ran for the door marked Autorimessa. "We need something that'll matter!"

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Ahead of her, Maria saw the castle wall explode. As she drove around the larger debris, she saw the Panzer emerging from the smoke where once a wall had been about 20 meters ahead. Her training had taught her that attempting something as foolish as a Bootlegger's Reverse was more likely to blow out all four tires than be successful. With that knowledge, she shifted gears and raced past the tank as it chugged past behind her.

The inexperienced tank driver attempted a hard turn. The online simulator he'd played in preparation for the assignment hadn't properly instructed him on turning a Panzer III while accelerating in real life. Forward momentum caused the Panzer to smash through a wall on the other side of the street. It broke through another 15 meters before correcting course back onto the street, whoever was manning the main gun trying to bring it to bear on the Ferrari.

Maria knew the castle's neighbors whose wall they'd just destroyed as she checked her rearview and saw the tank recover the chase. She knew everyone whose homes she was speeding past. They were, after all, Her People. She knew the road well enough to know that she was approaching a four-way intersection with a fountain in the middle just around the next bend. She had a number of ways to lose them from there. She'd be able to floor it and shake them completely around a couple corners. When she saw the barrel of the Main Gun had almost gotten into position to fire, she swerved again and up-shifted as another round roared toward the spot where she'd been moments before. Debris cracked the rear window, causing it to spiderweb. She imagined the rear-end was also damaged when the explosion caused her vehicle's rear wheels to rise off the ground as if she'd just run over something or someone invisible.

Focusing on the bend in the road ahead, Maria realized that running away wouldn't work. Thus far, they hadn't run into any traffic or pedestrians, but this was a residential area; any bystanders who might be harmed were People of San Finzione, and their future Contessa could not allow that to happen to them.

As the fountain grew closer, Maria saw cars driving past and abandoned the "just step on the gas and outrun it" plan. If whomever was driving the Panzer was as incautious as he had been thus far, there was no way someone wouldn't get hurt if he chased her across traffic. She saw the machine behind her strike the hole it had made in the road and roll through it, knocking what looked like a headless body off the rear. She knew there was a convenience store with a parking lot at the intersection where she could turn around and grabbed the e-brake, bracing for the turn at what would be, by the time she slowed enough to make it, still a couple Gs worth of force. She came to a stop in the parking lot, narrowly avoiding two teenagers standing in the middle of the lot; thumping their phones that had stopped getting signals a few minutes ago. They turned on the cameras and pointed them at Maria while she put the car in reverse and backed out at speed, turning back toward the castle and the metal monstrosity charging toward her. She began singing the national anthem under her breath as she flashed her headlights at the tank and gunned the engine.

"GLO-ry to SAN Fin-zi-O-ne! We EV-er FOR-ward go!"

Maria stepped on the gas and started accelerating toward the Panzer. The driver seemed to take her up on the unexpected offer to play chicken and the gunner was trying to correct for her new position.

"Our FER-tile soil, Our PEO-ple's toil, the EN-vy of each foe!"

Potentially Useful figured that at the rate the vehicles were approaching each other, another shot would probably blow them up as well. Maria continued the anthem.

"WE'll GLAD-ly fight." she sang louder. "For ALL that's good AND right."

Maria closed the distance as the tank driver did the same. She smiled as he took her bait. 60 meters and closing, 50 meters and closing.

"Both NIGHT and day, till ALL will say...

40 meters, 30...

"'SAN Fin-ZI-o-ne is THE LIGHT!'"

At 20 meters away, Maria turned on her high-beams. It was noontime, so it hadn't been dark enough to blind the driver completely. However, the high-powered halogen lamps suddenly firing to life in front of him distracted the driver enough to cause the tank to jerk to its left, into the sides of cars parked alongside the street. Maria adjusted course around it and zoomed past. Behind her, the row of empty vehicles was being destroyed as whomever was driving tried to turn the beast back around quickly.

Maria hit a button on the steering wheel.

"Ultimados!" Maria shouted as a light indicated that the car phone was now active and dialing the number. As she headed back through the earlier destruction, she heard the clicks and beeps as her phone communicated to the jammer that this was someone cleared to break a call through. It was answered on the first ring.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Squadra de Ultimados." Said a woman's voice over the car's sound system.

"This is Snow White!" Maria shouted, seeing that the tank had managed to turn around and was building speed to be on her tail once more. At a lower volume, she added "Verification: La Speranza. I am being pursued in my vehicle by a tank! I must speak to Jiminy Cricket at once."

The Ultimados operator heard the correct code phrases and took Lady Maria seriously.

"Confirmed, Snow White." The woman replied in Italian. "I have your tracker and am patching in Jiminy Cricket."

Maria took a sharp turn as the cannon roared again. It hit the street, sending cobblestones flying into walls and windows. Over the sound as she drove away, she heard the clicks of a speakerphone in a busy room joining the conversation.

"Snow White!" Capitan Gregario Ortega addressed the speaker. "This is Jiminy Cricket. Clarify: You are being chased by a tanker truck?"

"No!" Maria shouted as she shifted gears. "A tank. An old German tank from the war!"

Ortega barked some orders in Spanish and Maria heard multiple feet running.

"Roger that, Snow White, the Dwarves are scrambling to your signal. If it's a WWII-era tank, you should be able to outrun it and escape."

"Not an option." Maria replied, turning into an alley between the rows of houses that, while big enough for her car, would also be big enough for the tank to use. "I am on La Collina, near the castle. There are too many innocents to risk if they decided to harm bystanders to get to me. So far, I've prevented this!"

Maria glanced at the rearview mirror. The alley ran the length of the block. She decelerated slightly so that they could see which direction she was going to turn before leaving the gunner's line of sight, keenly aware that if a child or animal were to run from one of the back yards across the alley at this time, she would be unable to avoid hitting them at terminal velocity. If she slammed on the brakes, turned into a wall, or otherwise try to stop her car now, it would roll and then both she and the child would absolutely be killed.

She needed to focus. Maria downshifted as the tank began to crash through a wooden fence to cut the corner that her car had just taken.

"He drives like he got his license this morning. The machine gun on the top has been ruined. I've been able to..."

Maria whipped around the corner, accelerating again. The movements of the main barrel seemed jerky as the gunner adjusted to locate his target. The driver continued toward Maria as she rounded another corner. She e-braked right, because turning left would take her back toward the citizens coming out of their homes to see what the noise was about. A moment later, everyone scrambled back indoors when the tank rounded the corner after what looked to be Lady Maria's Ferrari, barely recognizable from all the shredded rear end.

"Dodge him!" Maria finished. "I am leading him back in the direction of the castle. Perhaps I can get him to chase me back into the courtyard and play 'Toro Toro' until he runs out of shells or you arrive." She wasn't certain if she was thinking of the right words. Great-Grandpapa had abolished bullfighting in the country long before she'd been born; however, she'd seen them on television and concluded that it was the right description for her idea.

Maria's rear window was solid white and peeling, threatening to fall at any moment. She couldn't see out her rear-view mirror, but from the side, she saw the barrel was almost aimed correctly again.

"Negativo, Snow White! Too risky!" Ortega insisted, understanding that the princess' own sense of duty rivaled that of most of the Ultimados who would have been protecting her if something as unexpected as this hadn't happened. And that she'd willingly sacrifice her own life to save others. "The Dwarves are in the air. ETA 3 minutes. Can you lead him onto Strada Al Castillo? A wide, open thoroughfare like that would give them a better chance for a clean Hi-Ho."

"Won't it be full of... oh!"

Maria glanced at the clock and noticed the time, 12:43 PM. She'd been aware for a while that the expression "Nothing happens between 12 and 2 in San Finzione" was becoming a misconception at a geometric rate. However, for the most part, people were home and doing the sort of thing she'd hoped to be doing with Stavro by now before her plans had been interrupted by tons of German Steel chasing her with sloppily murderous intent.

The distracted thought caused her to notice almost too late that the gunner had finally gotten a bead on her. The call with the last round had been too close, and as she sharply turned down La Collina entering the main thoroughfare between the Marketplace and Castle Finzione; Strada Al Castillo, the shell erupted close enough to cause the Ferrari to almost tip over. As she landed back down with a jolt, Maria could now hear, see, and feel that both her rear tires had been blown off and that her bare rims were now dragging and sparking on the ground behind her. She stomped on the gas, aware that she rapidly was losing the advantage of acceleration but hoping to keep that of maneuverability.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She was losing that advantage. Maria swerved hard into an oncoming lane that, at time of day, had no oncoming traffic. As she fishtailed down the hill toward the Marketplace, she could see La Policia setting up anti-tank barriers down below. They would have weapons that would destroy the tank, she just had to keep from slowing enough for the tank to run her down.

Suddenly, the blast of a diesel horn came from up the hill, Maria looked at what was now ramming the rear of the tank and smiled as she jerked the wheel as hard as she could away from the street and the person she was fairly certain was behind the horn's source as the tank ground to a halt, the impact-resistant front bumper now shoving into the tank's rear armor as the semi driver stepped on the gas.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Behind the wheel of the red 18-wheeler that was mangling the rear treads of the tank, Contessa Helena de San Finzione looked up from the deflating air bag and stepped on the gas, pushing the tank closer toward the roadblock down the hill and away the front half of Maria's car that was coming to a stop. The four-point safety harnesses she'd had installed kept Helen and Mander from lurching out of their seats. Helen spit out her mouthguard, grabbed the CB microphone, and turned on the PA.

"CON-VOY!!" Helen shouted, driving past Maria and blasting the air horn a second time to her.

"Ok, I got two questions." Mander shouted after removing his own mouthguard; which they'd been wearing so that neither lost teeth in the collision, over the sound of rending metal so that Helen could hear him now that her ringing was gone. He picked up the weapons from between the seats now that they wouldn't be needed. "I know the back armor's weaker than the other sides, so rammin' from behind's the way to go; but how'd we not wreck doing that? Also, when'd you learn to drive one of these things?"

Helen looked at the tank trying to swivel its main gun round to fire on her, however, she was too close for it now, continuing to press her front and the tank's rear ends into a single metal mass. With parts of her bumper now jamming up the rear treads, the big rig was pushing the Panzer faster than it had been designed to be able to move. Smoke and squealing noises were starting to come from the tank.

"In reverse order; I got to drive one the night before I got stabbed and decided I wanted one of my own. As for why we're pushing the tank instead of being all smashed up ourselves; that thing was built BEFORE airbags, crumple zones, high-impact bumpers, and four-point harnesses." Helen thumped one of the straps of her harness. "Mine was built after all those things. I got all the options and then some. If you get tired and feel like you need a nap after this, there's bunk beds in the back."

Helen pushed the hapless behemoth toward an open intersection cleared of traffic. She looked up and pointed out to Mander the seven Apache helicopters flying toward them from Fort Ernesto. Helen grabbed the e-brake and heard metals rending in the other direction as she stopped pushing the tank and allowed it to break free and screech to a halt in the intersection.

She put the big rig in reverse and quickly backed away. The gunner, now seeing his opportunity, tried to turn the cannon back around and possibly hit Maria now that the barrel no longer had Helen's truck in the way. The gunner saw Maria getting out of her car. He grinned as he got her in his crosshairs and began to...

Up above them, the seven helicopters opened fire with their forward machine guns. The men inside were shredded by thousands of .30 bullets now making their metal tomb into swiss cheese like themselves. One of the remaining shells left inside was struck, causing it to explode and the other three remaining to chain-react until the tank went up in a fireball.

Maria was running up to Helen as she and Mander staggered out of the truck. With a look of shock, Helen walked toward her and let her great-granddaughter run into her arms.

"Are you ok, Dearest One?" Helen asked Maria.

"Si, I am. Are you?"

"Mostly." Helen turned and looked at the burning vehicle with the burning Nazis inside. "Although we WERE renting that tank, so I'm gonna have to BUY it from those guys now!"

Ultimados ran from concealed positions to surround and cover La Contessa and the Princess as they hugged. Because Mander was known to the Ultimados, they let him into the human shield they were forming around the two.

Overhead, the attack choppers fanned out to repel news copters until La Contessa and Lady Maria had been taken to safety. An APC arrived a moment later, which they entered to be driven back to the castle while medics inside saw to them.

* * *