“Excuse me, Major? I’m not sure I follow you,” said the general. It was some measure of how disoriented he was that he actually admitted his confusion to her.
It gave her considerable satisfaction to explain the whole thing to him. The best part about it was that it would get her exactly what she wanted, without requiring her to do anything beyond convincing the general that the problem was already solved. Which, as far as she was concerned, it was.
“This is stupid,” said Do-Wop. He looked around the little moonlit plaza, empty except for the two legionnaires. “Somebody tells us to come here for some important news, then don’t bother to show. I ain’t got the time for this kinda…”
“Then go on home,” came a voice from just behind him.
“What the…” Do-Wop whirled to face the speaker, as did Sushi. Both legionnaires assumed defensive stances as a figure emerged from the shadows. “Who you think you are, scarin‘ us like that?” said Do-Wop.
“I know exactly who I am,” said the newcomer, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit. He spoke excellent English, with just a trace of an Earth Italian accent. “So do quite a few people here in Rome. And I suspect if you knew what some of them know, you’d be even more scared. But that’s not why I asked you to meet me here. There are two other people you need to talk to.” He gestured, and another pair of figures came into the light. A man and a woman… Beeker and Nightingale!
“Wow, you two picked a great time to finally show up,” said Sushi. “You wouldn’t believe how many planets we’ve chased you across…”
“I expect I would believe it, providing the number is no greater than four,” said Beeker, dryly. “I will say I was surprised to learn of your pursuit-which came to my attention back on Hix’s World-and, thanks to this gentleman, here on Old Earth.” He indicated the older man standing next to him.
“And who is this guy, anyway?” asked Sushi.
“Pitti da Phule,” said the newcomer, in a soft growl.
Do-Wop bristled. “Who you callin‘-” he began…
Beeker cut him off. “Mr. da Phule is one of your captain’s relatives living in this city. What he has told me has brought us all here tonight.”
Do-Wop snorted, still not quite mollified. “It must be pretty hot stuff, to make you change your mind after you up and run away from the captain…”
“I’d hardly call it running away,” said Beeker, raising an eyebrow. “In fact, I have done nothing but take my accumulated vacation time, as the young master himself had encouraged me to do. It had been nearly three years since I had more than a weekend away from my duties. Nightingale was entitled to leave after finishing her training, as well, and she decided to take it with me. She’d been planning our vacation for some time, in fact. Unfortunately, my gentleman was away from his office when Nightingale and I learned that the Lorelei space liner schedules had changed. We had to leave Zenobia immediately on the outgoing Supply shuttle if we were to make connections to Cut ‘N’ Shoot in time for the roundup festival.”
“Roundup festival?” Do-Wop was incredulous.
“I read about that as a little girl, and I always wanted to see it,” said Nightingale, enthusiastically.
“But we can talk about that at some more appropriate time,” said Beeker. “As this gentleman has informed me, your captain is in trouble. In fact, he has been kidnapped, and we need to act quickly-and in close cooperation-to set things right.”
“Sure, who we gotta kill?” said Do-Wop, striking a belligerent stance.
“We won’t need that,” said Pitti da Phule, calmly. “If we did, I could arrange it with local contractors-I think it’s always better to deal with people you know. No, what I need you to do is a bit trickier. But from what my nephew’s butler tells me, it should be right up your alley…”
Beeker, Nightingale, and the two legionnaires listened carefully while Pitti da Phule outlined his plan, with Sushi and Nightingale occasionally asking questions. Finally, everyone knew their part in the operation. With a final handshake, the group split up-Beeker and Nightingale headed in one direction, Pitti da Phule in another, and Sushi and Do-Wop headed back toward their hotel. They’d have to get some supplies in the morning, but there was plenty they could do before then. And if they were lucky, they just might get some sleep before the whole thing was over.
Then again, they might not.
About the only good thing Phule could say about being kidnapped was that somebody in the neighborhood made really good take-out pasta. Dinner last night had been an excellent lasagna with mushrooms and spicy sausage, and the thugs made sure he had plenty of vino to wash it down. Good robust Tuscan red-they left him the bottle. Wanting to keep his wits about him, he made it a point to pour a good bit down the sink when nobody was watching. If he could get the kidnappers to underestimate how alert he was, that was an advantage he might be able to use.
On the other hand, that was about the only advantage he could see them giving him. The door stayed locked; so did the window, and the bars on the outside looked plenty strong enough. Breaking the glass was the only way to test them, and if the bars really were immovable, breaking the glass was just a good way to annoy Weasel-face and Vin-nie, neither of whom seemed to sympathize with his desire to escape.
Judging from the sky, it was still early morning. The kidnappers had taken his watch, so he had no way to be certain. But the fact that breakfast had yet to appear seemed to confirm his guess-not that he had any reason to expect them to coddle him. They didn’t seem interested in providing entertainment, either. He had nothing to read except an Italian-language advertising flyer of some sort that came in the bag with the wine last night. He’d been desperate enough to try reading it, though his Italian was so rudimentary he couldn’t really make out what it was trying to sell.
If I ever kidnap somebody, I’ll make it a point to provide plenty of entertainment, he thought to himself. If these people had given me a good action game to play or some exciting vids to watch, I might not be working on an escape plan. At that point he sat up straight and shook his head. And here I am, instead, trying to figure out how they might have done a better job of keeping me from escaping.
He stood and went to look out the window-probably for the twentieth time since getting up. Judging by the building across the way, he was on about the third floor, so even if he could somehow get past the bars, he’d have a dangerous drop to ground level-which, as far as he could tell by looking out the window, was a narrow back alley. So while there were no passersby to signal for help, there were also no watchers if he did somehow manage to escape out this window. A possible advantage, though not one he could see any way to exploit just now.
That was the real problem; he had any number of intangible advantages over his kidnappers-he was younger, probably smarter, certainly richer, trained in several military combat disciplines, and much more alert than either of them seemed to be. But, totally unfairly, they were the ones who had him locked up, and he had yet to find a way out of this place.
He supposed he could always try to offer them ransom, but he’d learned at a young age-almost as soon as he’d been allowed outdoors by himself-that paying ransom was never an option. Let anyone know that they could grab you and get payment for your release, and there was no end to it. The only answer was to make it clear that there’d be no ransom payment, ever. Few people would bother kidnapping someone if there was no possibility of a payoff for his return. Of course, that didn’t seem to have deterred the people who’d captured him. Were they too stupid to have figured it out? Or were they taking the chance because they didn’t know his real identity? For the first time, he began to think there was a downside to the Legion practice of assumed names.