Chapter 35
Eventually, the sun comes up and the twelve hour waiting period Val had imposed was coming to an end. About an hour and a half after they had left, the group of orks had returned to the garage with stolen loot in hand, most likely from the nearby mall. Luckily for them, they continued to have no interest in Babyshit.
Italy lays his hands on his knees and inhales, then exhales slowly. He's seated cross-legged in front of his pocsec; the rest of his gear is arranged in rows that are precise to the millimeter, having been thoroughly checked and cleaned. Six hours, thirty-four minutes, and forty-one seconds alone inside his own skull hadn't been easy. Hopefully, Val will have some good news for him. With the 10cm wand in his right hand, he selects Val's number from the phone book and hits the dial button.
After three rings, Val finally picks up. "So, are you on your way?"
"Yes, though the way the roads are, it could take quite a while." The adept doesn't move from his position for the moment. "I was hoping you had some news for me."
"I think we better speak in person. I've found some very interesting information that I don't think we should discuss this way."
"I'll see you then." Italy taps the disconnect icon, pulls a tarp over his equipment, and climbs into the front seat. His Guardian is in a shoulder holster under his jacket, and the HK227-S he sets between the front seats—out of sight, but not out of reach. Babyshit starts with its usual protests, and Italy drives out into the Seattle streets.
The drive out to The Point is relatively uneventful, save for the constant signs that the further one gets away from the affluent parts of the 'Plex, the more things have been allowed to devolve into abject horror. Of course, there are potential signs of collective self-sustenance and protection, but in Puyallup they are merely the existing order of near-survivalist enclaves becoming more martial in their presence. Eventually, he makes it to the Point, which seems to have lacked for nothing in spite of the collapsing world around it. Some smartass even put up a sign nearby that has been vandalized with a baseball bat that read, "The Bar at the End of the World." A few vehicles sit in the parking lot, including one he can presume is Val's. Even the bouncers look more fearsome bundled up in warm clothing and obvious armor (six of one...) as they stand outside. Letting Italy in with the usual cover charge, the adept spots Val at the end of the wall of booths with a pair of generic-looking muscleheads standing next to her booth.
"Val." Italy permits a corner of his mouth to twist up in greeting; Val's never lied to him unless she had to, which rates at least a small crack in his business face. "You've been well?"
"Well enough. Please, sit down."
Italy pulls out the chair opposite Val and carefully sits, not bothering to take off his jacket. THP is pretty lax on weapons in the bar as long as they don't come out, but on a night like this, there's no point in taking chances on making anyone nervous.
"So. How much of the package did you get?"
"I got the guns, the ammo and the explosives. I also found out probably more than I wanted to about this woman." Looking down at the table, she seems to indicate that he should look under it.
Italy tips his chair back, looking down behind his shades without bowing his head.
Beneath the table is a pair of large cases - the kinds one would use to carry weapons and ammunition.
"Okay," Italy nods, settling his chair on all four legs again. "Tell me about her."
"She's into a lot of things. Officially, she was a Colonel in the Army serving in JTF Seattle as an intelligence commander. However, she's also been doing a lot of Johnson work on the side, and has been ever since she got here in 2061. She was a supervisor for diplomatic protection until last year for the Secret Service. She's very stealthy, and very good at her job. From what I understand, she was working counterintelligence and covert operations through the Service for them and a lot of other alphabet soup agencies in the government. She's been doing this for twenty years now. Since she arrived, she's hired some heavy hitters for jobs all over the region, including a lot of people you've worked with in the past - close associates. The German and his friend Frankie, some mercs, everyone, even that guy Jay. They've known each other for fifteen years. She even hired my people behind my back.
"She is a fucking nightmare - someone with enough skill and political clout to get away with anything. She used to do this in DeeCee, and has some disgusting personal bankroll through her ex-husband and his family. She reported directly to Colloton, and suspicions be damned she took at least two bullets for Daviar before that plane exploded. She's the one who would have been hunting down the otaku and Winternight up to and after the Crash. But... She's seemed to have done a lot of independent activities which are so convoluted that she's probably the only person who knows about them. And right now? They had her locked up in Fort Lewis, but this morning they flew her to the Arc, and will probably move her as far from Seattle as possible. If I were you, I'd think very hard about what's important to me before I went any further with this inquiry."
Silence. Italy doesn't move—doesn't blink, doesn't even seem to be breathing. There's all the baggage that comes whenever the Arco is mentioned, of course. He sorts through that with practiced speed, if not ease. There's the fact that this woman has apparently played a fairly important role in his career without him ever suspecting—without him ever having met her. Almost everyone he knows is suspect; there's no telling who her web of contacts might include, or what contingencies might be in spinning into action with her sudden removal from the picture. And the people who he holds above suspicion are either unavailable... or safer not knowing. It's like holding a ticking time bomb and realizing you're in the middle of a minefield.
A great number of realizations slam into Italy in very rapid succession. He's blinded himself to a major portion of life in the shadows—a portion he should have been aware of and studying closely all along. Doing a good job and maintaining a strong work ethic are not enough to keep himself and his family safe from the consequences of what he does for a living. No one can know, or even suspect, why he's going after Madison. He is going after Madison, going back into the Arco to either extract her or kill her.
He realizes he is utterly and completely alone.
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