17-02-2020, 02:20 AM
"Good." Contessa Helena de San Finzione told the page on the other end of the line. "Tell the pit bosses to keep him winning. Not too much; enough to keep him there. They know what they're doing."
She hung up and turned to Mander. He was driving them down La Collina, toward the Marketplace.
"And that's the State Department off our backs. My people will keep him gambling, Don Nessuno's girls will keep him partying and laid, he gets to have fun until I meet him and give him a story to take back to the States, and we take care of Dietz with no further complications."
"That seems more how you'd distract Troy than a real agent." Mander replied. "What if he's one of those 'God and Country' types; too dedicated to the job to keep gambling and fucking the night away?"
"I have a Ministry of Intelligence; my background checks are VERY thorough. So are my psychological profiles. Half the reason most of these guys got into the job was because they watched the same movies Troy did; which means they've got the same fantasies. They also wanted to drink martinis and gamble for high stakes while wearing tuxedos and banging chicks with names like Fellatio Constant! Then they made it in and found out the job's mostly things like watching surveillance videos and monitoring wiretaps. Now the Bond fantasy is dangling in front of him and it's a sad truth that if Eliot was someone 'important,' they would've sent more than one guy. He's just here for show; make it seem like America's doing something. Why not enjoy this, let the locals take care of everything, then show up at the press conference after and tell the cameras how proud he was to help coordinate efforts? How fully the Government of San Finzione cooperated with the US on this matter? That's all anyone's expecting of him. And if he doesn't see it that way, he will after I finally talk to him."
"So, he's sorted." Mander asked. "Care to tell me more about this idea in your head?"
"Not just yet." Helen replied. "After this, if I'm right, yes. If it's what I'm thinking now, it's something big. The kind of big where you don't say anything until you're 100% certain. I'm starting to think that's what Eliot was doing. He got the same idea and got curious. He started poking around. And if I'm right, he also felt it was something you don't tell anyone until you know if you're right."
Mander thought on that.
"You're thinking he caught onto the thing they killed him for. The ball was already rolling on the hit a week before shooting started but he starting putting together why they might?"
Helen answered with a nod as Mander found a place to park close to the café.
* * *
At a small café outside the San Finzione Marketplace, there sat a Yia-Yia. The café had been there for generations, and some suspected that the original owner simply found her there and built the café around her.
For longer than anyone remembered, she'd sat at her table out front, drinking her vino and observing the world as it passed by her little spot in it. Taking in history as it entered and exited her fields of vision and hearing.
She'd been seeing a bit of it lately. Men walking around in uniforms like back then, riding tanks and vehicles like back then. The waiter came by once in a while to assure her that they were making a movie and the Nazis weren't back. She didn't want to admit it to him, but the reminders had been helpful. When did they start making movies here?
She'd thought about it a bit ago, when Tessa, a girl who sometimes stopped and said hello, came to see her. Tessa usually had questions about the old days and her life. Her Greek was good enough that, despite seeming to be American, they could still talk. She'd suspected that Tessa was some kind of movie star for some time. She was certainly pretty and popular enough that people came to have her sign things or take their pictures with her when they talked. The fact that she was traveling with Telly Savalas this time lent weight to the theory. Kojak was much more polite and taller in person than she'd expected and knew surprisingly little Greek, but she'd forgive a big star like him; even if he'd forgotten his lollipop today.
Tessa had questions about the past, as usual. The girl seemed to have a special interest in young Count Vincenzo. If someone as pretty as Tessa had her eye on him, she'd be worried for his darling Sofia. She told her of his uniting the people against the horrible German. Werner Schell. Despite the many other things that had left her memory, this man and the things he did never would.
She'd noticed that lately, Tessa's questions had focused on that bad time. Sometimes, men with cameras or tape recorders would also come and ask her about that time as well. They were usually satisfied with stories of tanks rolling through the marketplace, but Tessa wanted more. This time, she had brought some pictures to show. The Yia-Yia thought that the young man in one picture bore quite a resemblance to the young Count in the other picture. It was the other young man who'd visibly upset the Yia-Yia. She couldn't recall why, though. Tessa explained that it wasn't worth worrying about and said something else she couldn't remember.
The Yia-Yia recalled that Tessa had given her a phone number a long time ago. It was still in her purse, and although she didn't know how to use those phones the young people carried around these days, she thought of finding a pay phone and calling Tessa to ask her about the conversation. It was then that the waiter came and refilled her glass.
Yeah, why change a good thing now?
* * *
She hung up and turned to Mander. He was driving them down La Collina, toward the Marketplace.
"And that's the State Department off our backs. My people will keep him gambling, Don Nessuno's girls will keep him partying and laid, he gets to have fun until I meet him and give him a story to take back to the States, and we take care of Dietz with no further complications."
"That seems more how you'd distract Troy than a real agent." Mander replied. "What if he's one of those 'God and Country' types; too dedicated to the job to keep gambling and fucking the night away?"
"I have a Ministry of Intelligence; my background checks are VERY thorough. So are my psychological profiles. Half the reason most of these guys got into the job was because they watched the same movies Troy did; which means they've got the same fantasies. They also wanted to drink martinis and gamble for high stakes while wearing tuxedos and banging chicks with names like Fellatio Constant! Then they made it in and found out the job's mostly things like watching surveillance videos and monitoring wiretaps. Now the Bond fantasy is dangling in front of him and it's a sad truth that if Eliot was someone 'important,' they would've sent more than one guy. He's just here for show; make it seem like America's doing something. Why not enjoy this, let the locals take care of everything, then show up at the press conference after and tell the cameras how proud he was to help coordinate efforts? How fully the Government of San Finzione cooperated with the US on this matter? That's all anyone's expecting of him. And if he doesn't see it that way, he will after I finally talk to him."
"So, he's sorted." Mander asked. "Care to tell me more about this idea in your head?"
"Not just yet." Helen replied. "After this, if I'm right, yes. If it's what I'm thinking now, it's something big. The kind of big where you don't say anything until you're 100% certain. I'm starting to think that's what Eliot was doing. He got the same idea and got curious. He started poking around. And if I'm right, he also felt it was something you don't tell anyone until you know if you're right."
Mander thought on that.
"You're thinking he caught onto the thing they killed him for. The ball was already rolling on the hit a week before shooting started but he starting putting together why they might?"
Helen answered with a nod as Mander found a place to park close to the café.
* * *
At a small café outside the San Finzione Marketplace, there sat a Yia-Yia. The café had been there for generations, and some suspected that the original owner simply found her there and built the café around her.
For longer than anyone remembered, she'd sat at her table out front, drinking her vino and observing the world as it passed by her little spot in it. Taking in history as it entered and exited her fields of vision and hearing.
She'd been seeing a bit of it lately. Men walking around in uniforms like back then, riding tanks and vehicles like back then. The waiter came by once in a while to assure her that they were making a movie and the Nazis weren't back. She didn't want to admit it to him, but the reminders had been helpful. When did they start making movies here?
She'd thought about it a bit ago, when Tessa, a girl who sometimes stopped and said hello, came to see her. Tessa usually had questions about the old days and her life. Her Greek was good enough that, despite seeming to be American, they could still talk. She'd suspected that Tessa was some kind of movie star for some time. She was certainly pretty and popular enough that people came to have her sign things or take their pictures with her when they talked. The fact that she was traveling with Telly Savalas this time lent weight to the theory. Kojak was much more polite and taller in person than she'd expected and knew surprisingly little Greek, but she'd forgive a big star like him; even if he'd forgotten his lollipop today.
Tessa had questions about the past, as usual. The girl seemed to have a special interest in young Count Vincenzo. If someone as pretty as Tessa had her eye on him, she'd be worried for his darling Sofia. She told her of his uniting the people against the horrible German. Werner Schell. Despite the many other things that had left her memory, this man and the things he did never would.
She'd noticed that lately, Tessa's questions had focused on that bad time. Sometimes, men with cameras or tape recorders would also come and ask her about that time as well. They were usually satisfied with stories of tanks rolling through the marketplace, but Tessa wanted more. This time, she had brought some pictures to show. The Yia-Yia thought that the young man in one picture bore quite a resemblance to the young Count in the other picture. It was the other young man who'd visibly upset the Yia-Yia. She couldn't recall why, though. Tessa explained that it wasn't worth worrying about and said something else she couldn't remember.
The Yia-Yia recalled that Tessa had given her a phone number a long time ago. It was still in her purse, and although she didn't know how to use those phones the young people carried around these days, she thought of finding a pay phone and calling Tessa to ask her about the conversation. It was then that the waiter came and refilled her glass.
Yeah, why change a good thing now?
* * *
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