Treason

by Valerie J. Long

  This is war, Jo, and we’re fighting a Hydra. To which prison could you send these people if the wards are working for the Mafia?

  It was regrettable, but I agreed with Davide—I had to kill them. These first missions were crucial, and only after initial successes and the creation of a broader foundation could the Italians promise their people principal witness status, partial amnesty or even a mild sentence.

  Commissaria Meier had the license to kill, the means, the reason, and now also the opportunity. My personal reservations had to stand back.

  They didn’t even notice what came upon them.

  The snipers had their own access from the roof to the building, with a code lock with fingerprint security, okay. I might encounter such again inside the house, so I took one print with me—only the print, at my own finger.

  Now I was invisibly standing in a hallway on the upper floor of the spacious villa—should I rather call this structure a castle?—and focused on my next target.

  One suit was located below me, one not far away from me, both in the wide room with the open staircase and the gallery.

  Both had activated their camouflage, nevertheless I could tell from the stir in the air, how both turned my direction and aimed their underarm linear cannons at me. What the heck?

  “Welcome to Italy, Signorina Velvet,” a voice came from an open door at the hallway’s far end. There, an older man now entered the hallway. “Would you be so kind to deactivate your altogether useless camouflage?”

  Part Three—Sold Out

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Okay, he would talk, not shoot, so I’d better listen to what he wanted. Only I didn’t like the thought of what the linear cannons could do to me if the suits became nervous.

  I had to do something about that before I dropped my camouflage and replaced it by my usual black dress and gave my talk partner a friendly smile. How had they discovered me?

  They probably had introduced an idiot protocol. Whoever opened the roof door had to do this or that inside to show that everything was okay. I couldn’t know about that protocol, so I had violated the rule.

  “Good evening, Signore—?”

  “Oh, we don’t want to overstress the politeness. You’re our guest, and we’ve already prepared a cozy place for you. But first, I have to ask you to take off your armor suit.”

  So he’d like to see me nude? I further approached him. “I’m so sorry, but I have to disappoint you. I don’t wear undies, and I don’t drop my clothes before strangers.”

  “It’s not as if you have a choice.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  I had a choice. My talk partner recognized that, too, when both armor suits’ proud gold turned to a dull gray and their movements froze. The men in both suits became prisoners of their own equipment, and my opponent’s features showed plain horror.

  “But—”

  He didn’t get any further. Becoming invisible, covering the distance and breaking his neck were one. There wasn’t time for more anyway, as now several doors sprang open, and Mafia members in heavy leather and with plasma rifles in their hands stepped into the hallway to search their target.

  A target that was quickly moving along the hallway and cutting their necks one after the other. When the first shooter hit the floor, the last in the row was already dead.

  As quickly, I then scanned the rooms again to find my secondary targets, first on the upper floor, and then on the ground floor, but in vain.

  Nor did I find anything in the cellar—well, except for a cell with a sturdy-looking rack and some other likewise unfriendly toys.

  Too easy.

  That all had been too easy. Okay, despite Velvet’s reputation, they couldn’t have known how easily I could take out armor suits—this time, by the way, with two tiny nano projectiles from my blowguns, sent as greeting before my camouflage’s deactivation, which could easily send a delayed deactivation message instead of Wyvern poison—and so they might have placed their bets primarily on these two trump cards. But armor suits weren’t immune against plasma rifles, and they should have expected those.

  Was the big surprise waiting inside the house—or did it come from outside? There it still was too quiet. This situation was fishy, and I was running out of time.

  If the Capos had left, I didn’t have to hope for new findings here. This place was burned ground for secret investigators. So I’d better leave soon.

  When I reached the ground floor and the first of the two involuntary statues though, an idea occurred to me.

  With a few moves, I relieved the unlucky fighter of his combat backpack with micro fusion reactor and ammunition feed and his underarm linear cannons and strapped the equipment to my own body.

  Then I placed my hands on his chest.

  Assimilate and integrate.

  “If you try anything, I’ll shoot,” I promised to my victim. “I’m faster than you.”

  But he only stared at me in disbelief, while his armor suit literally ran off his body and over to me.

  —Completed. Reactor 98 percent. Ammunition 10’000—

  A tiny screen moved into position before my eye.

  I don’t need that. Show in my Analogy.

  A slap to the temple sent the naked man down. I was in a merciful mood, so I caught him and placed him gently down on the floor.

  I repeated the same maneuver one floor above, only without taking backpack and guns, and then I climbed back on the roof. Whatever the Mafia deployed, from up there I’d be able to see it better.

  I stepped through the narrow door onto the flat roof, glanced around—and wished I wouldn’t have done it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Of course. The Mafia controlled the government, and the government controlled the military and the police, at least in large parts. All pilots with family were endangered.

  The combat helicopters were yet too far away to hear them—a dozen black dots in the sky, nothing more.

  The two fighter planes, however, would be here in half a minute, and probably I’d be left with not even that much time.

  I jumped down from the roof and started running. Light barriers, motion detectors, gate guards were so not worrying me now!

  No, they had plasma rifles, and those should worry me, so I had to do something about it. One thought sufficed for four rounds from my linear cannons.

  Jumping across the gate was one of my easiest feats. My heavy steps pushed the caltrops into the ground as easily as the paint balls. Stirred-up flour was torn along by my assault run’s draft.

  Behind me, the villa died under the impact of several air-to-ground missiles.

  —Radar target acquisition recognized—

  Aw, crap, yes.

  Camouflage.

  I turned around. My Analogy provided me with all necessary details. It wasn’t that much different from plucking a knife from the air—an accelerated steel bullet plucked the missile from the air.

  Before the planes could turn and return, I had reached the forest edge. The sounds from the forest told me that the retreat was in full swing—sure, for anyone who hadn’t left the building in time, help would be too late, so why wait? It was obvious that the mission had failed with grandeur.

  Only where I had seen Davide last, I recognized a heat signature. Why hadn’t he left yet?

  I jumped across the pit trap and came down heavily next to him. He flinched.

  “It’s me, Davide. You must leave.”

  “Jo! You’re alive!” The joy in his face was real—I hadn’t mistaken him, he hadn’t given me away.

  A reply wasn’t needed. I grabbed him, literally tucked him under my arm, and ran off.

  We needed distance, the more the merrier.

  The forest belt was narrow—once we had crossed it, we also caught up with the team. Our cars were parked behind the trees, where the Carabinieri now took cover, as the helicopters I had seen were almost there.

  I sense
d two Marines suits. The others had aborted the mission as planned and were on the retreat. What were these two still doing here?

  Cap and Gunny Nick, I found out. Not ready to give me up?

  “Anti-air configuration,” Cap just ordered aloud.

  It wasn’t advisable to approach an armored suit with a helicopter too closely. Those people soon would learn that. I put Davide down and prepared myself to support both Marines.

  “Hey, Jo! What’s the booty this time?” Nick called at me.

  I showed my arms. “Firepower.”

  There were several flashes around the black spots in the sky.

  “Shit!” Cap yelled. “Missiles!”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  A whole dozen missiles were coming for us and our vehicles. Obviously, the Mafia knew how to treat armor suits—their target acquisition was simply too slow and too imprecise for missile defense.

  Except for a Golden One with integrated Analogy. It took me only seconds to compute and prioritize their trajectories and assign them to my two linear cannons.

  Almost without jolt, I sent twelve steel balls on their way. Into the fireballs of the shot-down missiles, a carefully scattered steel storm followed as a clear sign of disapproval for the flying death-bringers.

  Cap and Nick didn’t take long to overcome their surprise. As soon as they noticed the immediate danger banished, they opened fire, too.

  The distribution of tasks was clear—I had to take care of the missiles, but could leave further targets to them. If there were further targets.

  A feeling made me glance over my shoulder—just in time to at least try to dodge the plasma rifle shot!

  But I wasn’t that fast, not even with my Analogy. From close up, the sun-hot ball hit my backpack. That one was armored well, but the plasma ball hadn’t lost much of his power to the environment yet.

  —Critical reactor failure!—

  The heat in my back, the burning pain, already threatened to make me faint—black veils covered my vision.

  With my arms crossed over my chest, my hands on my shoulders, I tried to replace lost control signal projectors at least long enough with my own signals to let the run-off envelope field do an emergency shutdown. Newly acquired suit nanos flowed between me and my nemesis, dived into sure self-annihilation, to shield my body just a moment longer. Oh damn, I knew too well what a run-off reactor could cause!

  Detach!

  The reactor melted, the heat was simply there. The fusion process had stopped, but I couldn’t block the already-begun destruction with control signals.

  Two strong arms took me on both sides and carried me away from the heat source. That was all I noticed before I mercifully passed out.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  “Jo?”

  Me? Where was I? How was I?

  —Life-threatening condition. Regeneration induced. Replenishment of organic substance required—

  Oh crap. Well. I was lying rather uncomfortably on my face, but comfort was probably my least concern. Below the neck, I felt nothing.

  Can I talk?

  —Negative. Lung function severely damaged—

  Give me something else.

  Acknowledged. Piezo signal possible.

  I didn’t care. “Food,” I beeped.

  “Jo, we can’t apply a drip. We won’t get in.” That was Nick’s voice.

  “Left.” Grant access. “Need—solid substance.”

  “I still have a cereal bar.”

  “Put—back.”

  “On the wound?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t feel the prick in the arm, but I registered the feed of nutritive solution, just as Nick’s little donation.

  “Jo, just keep lying there. Cap and I won’t let anyone get near you. That bloody bastard who shot you will have a lot to explain. And his Colonnello darn well, too.”

  I gladly followed his advice. Just keep lying here.

  Damn.

  Never again would I let a fusion reactor come that close to me.

  “You’ve been incredible, but you know that. Crap—none of us can shoot missiles from the air. Now we’re puzzling again how you’ve done it. And the Pastas wonder how you could get out of the villa in time, and what happened there at all. That was a goddamn trap, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “They knew you’d come.”

  “Velvet.”

  “Crap. You’ve been snitched off. That simply can’t happen. That can’t happen at all.”

  Just my opinion, but I saved my unavailable breath and focused on supporting my healing.

  The skin on my back was practically gone. Owing to the nano support, the ribs had just held out, likewise the spine and shoulder blades. Spinal disks and cord had suffered more, just as both lungs and kidneys. Fried innards.

  About half my nano supply simply was gone—burned, melted away in the effort of shielding and dissipating the heat. That equaled about the mass of the two looted suits, and luckily I was left with the higher-specialized parts, like my healing nanos, which initially had focused on interrupting the blood and nerve circuits and retaining my heart’s rear wall.

  “You should be dead,” Nick quietly confirmed my own assessment. “But you’re truly Dragon, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t—tell—Cap,” I beeped back.

  Nick winked at me. “We all know what you did with Marv’s leg. So now you’re your own patient. Chris couldn’t do anything but the ninny for you, so Cap sent him away immediately.”

  Again, I glided into my healing trance.

  How would it feel to just sleep away and not wake up again? Ah no, been there, done that.

  Near-death experiences seemed to be a part of such a dangerous lifestyle. I should change that.

  I should…

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Never do such a stunt again,” Cap scolded me. The wetness in his eyes betrayed his stern voice.

  I could already lie in an ordinary bed and digest solid food the regular way, only half a day after the catastrophe.

  “The Colonnello would like to talk with you. I’ll stay at your side if you prefer.”

  I also could speak normally again, although it felt like quite a strain. Lung operation had priority, and in exchange, I still didn’t feel my lower body.

  “Leave us alone. I believe he’s as unhappy about the incident as you.”

  “It was one of his men!”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Cap disappeared, I heard the door, and then Davide entered—I recognized his footsteps.

  His face appeared in my field of vision. Gray, with rings under his eyes.

  “What about the northern and southern teams?”

  The question took him by surprise. “Successful. Although I don’t know what that should help us, after this—how do you say?—cluster fuck here. We so botched it!”

  “It wasn’t optimal. And? Did we have any losses?”

  “Only you—almost.”

  “Then it’s gone well. We achieved the primary goal—the Italian Mafia doesn’t have any more invisible armor suits. We didn’t get the Capos, but we weren’t sure about their presence anyway. And see what we’ve achieved instead.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve discovered a traitor. Okay, it would have been even better without traitor. The Mafia placed a trap for me. With the trap construction, they’ve very clearly shown me what they know about me, and what they don’t. They’ve deployed everything they could muster, and have nevertheless failed.”

  I had to pause. Crap, talking hurt!

  “At the same time, your people learned that they must look after themselves despite my presence. Oh yes—and neither the population nor the Italian Air Force could fail to notice that the Mafia is already desperate enough to deploy fighter planes against targets in their own country. That’s embarrassing. A skilled propagandist will exploit that. Do you have press connec
tions?”

  Davide stared at me silently, as if I had slapped his head. Then a smile sneaked into his features.

  “Last night I told Cap, it’s only good that the best of you wasn’t hurt—your pretty little head.”

  With an effort, I raised one arm, lifted my cover, and pretended to check something under it. Davide immediately blushed.

  “It seems as if the best of me would still be there,” I partially agreed with him. “Both of them.”

  “Yees.” He nervously glanced around. “Johanna—I’m sorry about what’s happened there. It was one of my men, so it’s my responsibility. If you desire, I’ll put down my command.”

  “No, Davide. Italy needs you now. Please promise me that you’ll finish this. Regardless of what’s come up, now isn’t the time for grand gestures and drama. Now’s the time for people who eat any crap and simply go on. Tough dogs. I’d say you are such a tough dog.”

  “Maybe. Well—what shall I do with that guy now?”

  “Why—he’s still alive?”

  Davide’s head jerked up in surprise. “Yes, naturally.”

  “What’s natural about it? He’s sold us out once, he could do it again. You don’t have a suitable prison and, in the current phase of the mission, no time to care for such things. Most importantly, though—it’s war, and in a war traitors are shot. The signal must be clear. Anyone committing treason won’t see enjoying the money, not even after twenty years in jail and following amnesty. No quarter.”

  “But the law—”

  “You should check martial law. You’re a military unit, aren’t you? Or, if you can’t do it, I’ll do it.”

  “You?”

  “The Commissaria with a license to kill. I know, in any case, I won’t tolerate this traitor at my back. Your call.”

  “I don’t know what the rules say about the right method.”

  “Fuck the rules. Shoot him or break his neck. You needn’t tell me it’s about the least painful way of execution. He should be grateful if it hurts him less than me.”