17-02-2020, 01:14 AM
Whatever Gets You through the Night Pt. 15
"Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
who watches over you.
Make a little birdhouse in your soul.
Not to put too fine a point on it,
say I'm the only bee in your bonnet.
Make a little birdhouse in your soul."
-They Might Be Giants, "Birdhouse In Your Soul"
Helen, Maria, Mander, Ramirez, and Luc were gathered in her study. Tape from the market had been given to LeGrasse, who was overseeing CCTV tracking of the man that La Contessa had named "Bad Red Rug." Night had fallen some time ago, and it was agreed that everyone should relax, have a drink, and try to sort out what they'd gotten on Dietz today.
"If he's left the place," Mander said, taking a sip of his pint. "There's a chance he left some of the C-4 behind as a Fuck You for us." He turned to Ramirez, who was smoking. "Might want to tell LeGrasse's chaps to check the door before bashing it in." He then turned to Luc. "I live on an island and I regrettably worked for David Igazi. I have an idea of how much beer it takes to keep a dozen morons' loyalty. Red Rug's his guy."
Ramirez sipped his brandy and hmmed. He, Luc, and Maria accepted La Contessa's offer of some Napoleon Brandy. And because she wasn't planning to have any more and trusted everyone in the room, Helen had a splash of it in her cocoa as well. Everyone was aware of her personal feelings about alcoholics, so they were limiting themselves to the one social drink. Helen sat at her computer. Mander and Maria sat on a couch and Luc and Ramirez were in a pair of Louis XIV armchairs facing everyone. Hernando leaned over and took another look at the photos.
"Stalin's one effort at morale at Stalingrad was making certain the vodka rations always got through." Ramirez was forced to agree, despite his personal misgivings about the mercenary. Most of which concerned the fact that he WAS a mercenary and if the chips were down, would save himself over La Contessa. He was a friend of La Contessa's, though; so Ramirez accepted that, until then, he was here for the duration.
"I heard a story about that!" Mander interjected. "There was this Russian Commander, right? And he figured out 'Every time I report casualties, Stalin cuts our vodka rations accordingly. So, I'll just stop reporting casualties!'"
Helen set down her cocoa and leaned forward. She'd heard the story before, but she appreciated the good scam involved. Mander continued.
"Sure enough, when he stops reporting them, he still gets their vodka to split amongst his remaining guys. So, months go by, right? It's Stalingrad, course they're taking casualties; but now the number of guys splitting the dead's vodka gets smaller; Stalin keeps 'em coming. Eventually, someone at the Kremlin notices 'Hey, we got this commander ain't lost a single man in months! He must be some kind of tactical genius like that Ortega bloke; wasted on the Front Lines. Let's go out there and find out his secret!'"
Everyone leaned closer as Mander lowered his voice for the good part. He stopped to sip his pint for emphasis.
"So, they send some officers out there and they find him and somethin' like twenty guys blitzed out on a hundred guys' worth of vodka!"
Everyone laughed. Luc was the first to speak.
"I'd imagine they were all shot the same day." He mused.
"That's the best bit!" Mander added. "They were GONNA shoot him, but they COULDN'T! Because that very morning, back in Moscow, Stalin had declared him a Hero of the Soviet Union for not losing a single man in months! So now he was propaganda, and they had to give him the medal or go back to Moscow, tell Stalin he fucked up, and get shot themselves. They gave him the medal!"
The laughter re-erupted. When La Contessa's phone rang, the laughter died down. As she picked it up, the Generalissimo's phone also rang. They both quietly had a similar conversation. Helen hung up a few moments before Ramirez's conversation was over. She remained quiet until his call was done to tell the others.
"The old man in the hospital didn't make it." Helen said flatly to them. "Arturo Lopez, age 81, has become the first Citizen of San Finzione to be killed by the Nazis since 1945."
Silence fell. No one could think of what to say. Lady Maria was the first to make the attempt.
"That means that he was here when Great-"
She stopped herself. A round of "Forever does he reign in our hearts" right now would be more than she, and she suspected Great-Grandmama and the Generalissimo would be able to handle.
Helen took another sip of her cocoa before putting out the cigarette she'd lit during Mander's story.
"I'm sorry, everyone." La Contessa said at last. For the second time in as many days, Helen felt the hollow feeling of losing someone. She didn't know Arturo Lopez personally. Just that he'd been one of The People she'd sworn a lifelong oath to protect and defend. And since that one had been made on behalf of Vincenzo, Maria, and the Country overall; it was one of the ones she took as seriously as the vows she'd made to Vincenzo in St. Francis de Sales Cathedral years before. She thought how Arturo Lopez probably watched her Royal Wedding on television that day. And how, whatever his opinion of his Contessa's job of carrying on his Count's work, she'd have to hear it from the rest of the Lopez family when she visited.
Helen noticed that everyone had been remaining still and watching her while all these thoughts ran through her head. She spoke again.
"I'm sorry, everyone, I..." She started walking slowly toward the panel that activated the secret passage to her bedroom. Maria already knew about it, and the others, she was ok with them learning about it. Only Luc didn't seem surprised that she'd just reveal something like that to them all without caring. "I think we should pick this up in the morning. Or whenever LeGrasse has something to tell us. Luc, I heard you've already got Scott's computer. Maria, would you call Nunzio or someone to bring Eliot's computer out to Hernando's car? La Policia brought it up to the castle, and I thought he might..."
"Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
who watches over you.
Make a little birdhouse in your soul.
Not to put too fine a point on it,
say I'm the only bee in your bonnet.
Make a little birdhouse in your soul."
-They Might Be Giants, "Birdhouse In Your Soul"
Helen, Maria, Mander, Ramirez, and Luc were gathered in her study. Tape from the market had been given to LeGrasse, who was overseeing CCTV tracking of the man that La Contessa had named "Bad Red Rug." Night had fallen some time ago, and it was agreed that everyone should relax, have a drink, and try to sort out what they'd gotten on Dietz today.
"If he's left the place," Mander said, taking a sip of his pint. "There's a chance he left some of the C-4 behind as a Fuck You for us." He turned to Ramirez, who was smoking. "Might want to tell LeGrasse's chaps to check the door before bashing it in." He then turned to Luc. "I live on an island and I regrettably worked for David Igazi. I have an idea of how much beer it takes to keep a dozen morons' loyalty. Red Rug's his guy."
Ramirez sipped his brandy and hmmed. He, Luc, and Maria accepted La Contessa's offer of some Napoleon Brandy. And because she wasn't planning to have any more and trusted everyone in the room, Helen had a splash of it in her cocoa as well. Everyone was aware of her personal feelings about alcoholics, so they were limiting themselves to the one social drink. Helen sat at her computer. Mander and Maria sat on a couch and Luc and Ramirez were in a pair of Louis XIV armchairs facing everyone. Hernando leaned over and took another look at the photos.
"Stalin's one effort at morale at Stalingrad was making certain the vodka rations always got through." Ramirez was forced to agree, despite his personal misgivings about the mercenary. Most of which concerned the fact that he WAS a mercenary and if the chips were down, would save himself over La Contessa. He was a friend of La Contessa's, though; so Ramirez accepted that, until then, he was here for the duration.
"I heard a story about that!" Mander interjected. "There was this Russian Commander, right? And he figured out 'Every time I report casualties, Stalin cuts our vodka rations accordingly. So, I'll just stop reporting casualties!'"
Helen set down her cocoa and leaned forward. She'd heard the story before, but she appreciated the good scam involved. Mander continued.
"Sure enough, when he stops reporting them, he still gets their vodka to split amongst his remaining guys. So, months go by, right? It's Stalingrad, course they're taking casualties; but now the number of guys splitting the dead's vodka gets smaller; Stalin keeps 'em coming. Eventually, someone at the Kremlin notices 'Hey, we got this commander ain't lost a single man in months! He must be some kind of tactical genius like that Ortega bloke; wasted on the Front Lines. Let's go out there and find out his secret!'"
Everyone leaned closer as Mander lowered his voice for the good part. He stopped to sip his pint for emphasis.
"So, they send some officers out there and they find him and somethin' like twenty guys blitzed out on a hundred guys' worth of vodka!"
Everyone laughed. Luc was the first to speak.
"I'd imagine they were all shot the same day." He mused.
"That's the best bit!" Mander added. "They were GONNA shoot him, but they COULDN'T! Because that very morning, back in Moscow, Stalin had declared him a Hero of the Soviet Union for not losing a single man in months! So now he was propaganda, and they had to give him the medal or go back to Moscow, tell Stalin he fucked up, and get shot themselves. They gave him the medal!"
The laughter re-erupted. When La Contessa's phone rang, the laughter died down. As she picked it up, the Generalissimo's phone also rang. They both quietly had a similar conversation. Helen hung up a few moments before Ramirez's conversation was over. She remained quiet until his call was done to tell the others.
"The old man in the hospital didn't make it." Helen said flatly to them. "Arturo Lopez, age 81, has become the first Citizen of San Finzione to be killed by the Nazis since 1945."
Silence fell. No one could think of what to say. Lady Maria was the first to make the attempt.
"That means that he was here when Great-"
She stopped herself. A round of "Forever does he reign in our hearts" right now would be more than she, and she suspected Great-Grandmama and the Generalissimo would be able to handle.
Helen took another sip of her cocoa before putting out the cigarette she'd lit during Mander's story.
"I'm sorry, everyone." La Contessa said at last. For the second time in as many days, Helen felt the hollow feeling of losing someone. She didn't know Arturo Lopez personally. Just that he'd been one of The People she'd sworn a lifelong oath to protect and defend. And since that one had been made on behalf of Vincenzo, Maria, and the Country overall; it was one of the ones she took as seriously as the vows she'd made to Vincenzo in St. Francis de Sales Cathedral years before. She thought how Arturo Lopez probably watched her Royal Wedding on television that day. And how, whatever his opinion of his Contessa's job of carrying on his Count's work, she'd have to hear it from the rest of the Lopez family when she visited.
Helen noticed that everyone had been remaining still and watching her while all these thoughts ran through her head. She spoke again.
"I'm sorry, everyone, I..." She started walking slowly toward the panel that activated the secret passage to her bedroom. Maria already knew about it, and the others, she was ok with them learning about it. Only Luc didn't seem surprised that she'd just reveal something like that to them all without caring. "I think we should pick this up in the morning. Or whenever LeGrasse has something to tell us. Luc, I heard you've already got Scott's computer. Maria, would you call Nunzio or someone to bring Eliot's computer out to Hernando's car? La Policia brought it up to the castle, and I thought he might..."
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)