08-04-2019, 04:32 PM
"Luc," Ramirez said, clearly on speaker on his end, too. "It won't have hit world news yet... Si! I want full thermal flyover scans of the vineyard. Intelligence says this informant is more reliable than most. The gun cache is out there, get to it before they do."
The distraction ended, and Ramirez tried to return to the call.
"Check Seattle, my friend... No, we are explaining the military presence in the city to the touristas as the filming of a big Hollywood movie here in San Finzione. Contessa Maria is going through her great-grandmother's address book to find some movie stars who can be trusted to come here and go along with such a ploy. Si, the entries in Contessa Helena's private address book are quite detailed. And tell my secretary that I'm on an important call and not to be disturbed! By the time Ramirez had peace and quiet in his office, Luc had already brought up a site for local Seattle news, and was reading about the hit on the Triad limo.
"Sorry, Luc." Hernando said when he was able to return to his desk and take the phone off speaker. "I take it you've had time to see what I'm calling about."
"Oui, very interesting. Oh, an obvious frame job, of course." Luc lit a cigarette and chewed on the driver's last words. "... 'slavery and human trafficking...DO NOT happen in San Finzione..." He thought on the words. "This is a reprimand, not a threat. Perhaps one to be sent in blood, oui, but not like this; like an American Gangster film. Your Contessa has you and your men. If she wants to send a message to the Elders, why not send some of you to deliver it to their doorsteps in the night? Speaking of which, I got a flag last night, which said that Nigel Mander had entered the US via Portland, Oregon, on a San Finzione Cultural Attaché passport; I'd meant to call you and ask about that. Since everyone knows that 'Cultural Attaché' means 'assassin,' I am guessing that he is on the payroll and that Yorkshire has resurfaced."
"Si," Ramirez replied, lighting a cigarette of his own. "Yorkshire has a name now: Leonard Whyte, with a 'y' instead of an 'i' in Whyte."
"Hmm..." Luc hmmed. "The electronics mogul. Oui... I have a box on him. Nothing concrete, just the name popping up enough to warrant starting a box."
Luc frequently angered people other than his co-workers, mostly in a professional capacity. Because of this, he'd created a string of safe-deposit boxes, scattered across Europe, containing everything he had on the people or organizations most likely to kill him. Ramirez held the backup key to the box in San Finzione containing all of Luc's dirt on his supervisor and co-workers.
"Whyte hired Morgan." Ramirez mused. "He knew where to find him and about his condition. There's a connection, somewhere in the past."
"Oui. And for reasons that you are still unable to tell me over the phone, his handicap was an important factor in Whyte's decision. Give me a moment, Hernando."
Ramirez waited patiently and smoked while Luc typed some more. This was the kind of thing his old friend did, and the reason La Contessa requested that he contact Luc again after his assistance with the assassination investigation.
"You truly should come and meet La Contessa, Luc. I know you two would get along, and there are many other things about her that are better shown than explained."
"Sam has been asking for a vacation, and I need to update some of my boxes there. I would not even need to use my leave time; I am frequently encouraged to telecommute. Pamphlets about it are often left under my office door. Soon, perhaps. But oui, there was something I was keeping an eye on; a footnote from the FRAUD that stood out to me, so I made a note of it. Hearing Morgan's name again brings it to mind." Luc brought up the file. "Ah, here! A whisper that someone has been looking for disabled mercenaries. Unusual, because a mercenary who has lost a limb or one of his senses typically only finds work again by establishing a reputation for being exceptionally skilled enough to compensate. A general call, though, would pull the ones who got left in the dust out of retirement."
"Allow me to guess. Seeking deaf mercenaries. Like Morgan."
"Indeed. But Morgan was no random selection. There is another way such men find work again."
Ramirez nodded, knowing what the answer would be.
"Old times' sake." He replied.
"Oui. Though, with what we know of Whyte, I would not consider him sentimental. Morgan may have approached him for old times' sake, but then, Whyte exploited them. Now that we have his name, I should give those old cases a second look."
Luc thought a moment.
"Hernando. No one would put out a call like this unless the men he hired needed to be hard-of-hearing for a particular reason. There are, of course, rumors, legends, 'peasant gossip,' like olden times, perhaps; about your Contessa de San Finzione that no rational person would take seriously. And if someone had reason to believe them, then oui, hired guns unable to hear might be an asset. It would also explain many unanswered questions about the attempt on her life. About why the assassin was able to reach her, while everyone else froze. My questions about your actions during the event, which you never answered, and I respect you too much to ask again; would certainly be explained."
The distraction ended, and Ramirez tried to return to the call.
"Check Seattle, my friend... No, we are explaining the military presence in the city to the touristas as the filming of a big Hollywood movie here in San Finzione. Contessa Maria is going through her great-grandmother's address book to find some movie stars who can be trusted to come here and go along with such a ploy. Si, the entries in Contessa Helena's private address book are quite detailed. And tell my secretary that I'm on an important call and not to be disturbed! By the time Ramirez had peace and quiet in his office, Luc had already brought up a site for local Seattle news, and was reading about the hit on the Triad limo.
"Sorry, Luc." Hernando said when he was able to return to his desk and take the phone off speaker. "I take it you've had time to see what I'm calling about."
"Oui, very interesting. Oh, an obvious frame job, of course." Luc lit a cigarette and chewed on the driver's last words. "... 'slavery and human trafficking...DO NOT happen in San Finzione..." He thought on the words. "This is a reprimand, not a threat. Perhaps one to be sent in blood, oui, but not like this; like an American Gangster film. Your Contessa has you and your men. If she wants to send a message to the Elders, why not send some of you to deliver it to their doorsteps in the night? Speaking of which, I got a flag last night, which said that Nigel Mander had entered the US via Portland, Oregon, on a San Finzione Cultural Attaché passport; I'd meant to call you and ask about that. Since everyone knows that 'Cultural Attaché' means 'assassin,' I am guessing that he is on the payroll and that Yorkshire has resurfaced."
"Si," Ramirez replied, lighting a cigarette of his own. "Yorkshire has a name now: Leonard Whyte, with a 'y' instead of an 'i' in Whyte."
"Hmm..." Luc hmmed. "The electronics mogul. Oui... I have a box on him. Nothing concrete, just the name popping up enough to warrant starting a box."
Luc frequently angered people other than his co-workers, mostly in a professional capacity. Because of this, he'd created a string of safe-deposit boxes, scattered across Europe, containing everything he had on the people or organizations most likely to kill him. Ramirez held the backup key to the box in San Finzione containing all of Luc's dirt on his supervisor and co-workers.
"Whyte hired Morgan." Ramirez mused. "He knew where to find him and about his condition. There's a connection, somewhere in the past."
"Oui. And for reasons that you are still unable to tell me over the phone, his handicap was an important factor in Whyte's decision. Give me a moment, Hernando."
Ramirez waited patiently and smoked while Luc typed some more. This was the kind of thing his old friend did, and the reason La Contessa requested that he contact Luc again after his assistance with the assassination investigation.
"You truly should come and meet La Contessa, Luc. I know you two would get along, and there are many other things about her that are better shown than explained."
"Sam has been asking for a vacation, and I need to update some of my boxes there. I would not even need to use my leave time; I am frequently encouraged to telecommute. Pamphlets about it are often left under my office door. Soon, perhaps. But oui, there was something I was keeping an eye on; a footnote from the FRAUD that stood out to me, so I made a note of it. Hearing Morgan's name again brings it to mind." Luc brought up the file. "Ah, here! A whisper that someone has been looking for disabled mercenaries. Unusual, because a mercenary who has lost a limb or one of his senses typically only finds work again by establishing a reputation for being exceptionally skilled enough to compensate. A general call, though, would pull the ones who got left in the dust out of retirement."
"Allow me to guess. Seeking deaf mercenaries. Like Morgan."
"Indeed. But Morgan was no random selection. There is another way such men find work again."
Ramirez nodded, knowing what the answer would be.
"Old times' sake." He replied.
"Oui. Though, with what we know of Whyte, I would not consider him sentimental. Morgan may have approached him for old times' sake, but then, Whyte exploited them. Now that we have his name, I should give those old cases a second look."
Luc thought a moment.
"Hernando. No one would put out a call like this unless the men he hired needed to be hard-of-hearing for a particular reason. There are, of course, rumors, legends, 'peasant gossip,' like olden times, perhaps; about your Contessa de San Finzione that no rational person would take seriously. And if someone had reason to believe them, then oui, hired guns unable to hear might be an asset. It would also explain many unanswered questions about the attempt on her life. About why the assassin was able to reach her, while everyone else froze. My questions about your actions during the event, which you never answered, and I respect you too much to ask again; would certainly be explained."
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