“You’re cruel.”
“I’m merciful. You don’t want to see the day I’m cruel.”
He shivered. “No.”
“What’s next?”
“The minister says we should show the forces that the time has come for acting tall, and that we can win. So we’ll try to conquer an army camp. No big shoot-out, only with a few invisible Marines as backup. Something like the air attack mustn’t happen again. With loyal army forces, we can then tackle the air base. At the same time, the soldiers can try to protect the officers’ families.”
“Don’t try, just do it. That sounds good, and you don’t need me for it.”
“Don’t get us wrong. We don’t know whether—when you’ll be fit again.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow already?”
“I need some more of this tasty lasagna, and then the lamb fillets, in between some sheep cheese—tomorrow I’ll be ready for my part of the mission.”
“Your part?”
“I’ll sniff out the Capos. With that, I’m better than in such large missions. I know a few more places where they could be” —there I tapped my forehead— “and I don’t think they guess I could know it.”
“You’ll take the Capos on all alone?”
“Definitely. Only alone, I can apply all my skills to the whole. They won’t notice that I’ve visited them until it’s too late.”
“I should begin to fear you.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t want to rule a country. Offer me a villa with a good cook and a good-looking entertainer, and I’m peaceful.”
“What’s a good-looking entertainer for you?”
“I’m widely interested. Look into the mirror, there you see an example.”
“Oh.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want to get into Alessia’s way.”
“Alessia?!”
“Don’t say you didn’t notice yet. Aw, men! Go now. I believe you’ve got something to do.”
“Ciao, bella.” He rose and left, shaking his head.
Cap came back in and closed the door. Briefly thereafter, we heard a shot.
With a satisfied smile, I fell back into a healthy sleep.
Chapter Thirty-four
A thought made the salty wetness roll off my body. Finally, I had solid ground under my feet again. I simply wasn’t made for a life as fish.
With a few quick steps, I reached the buildings’ shadows and the cover of a large pile of garbage bags. My fine hearing caught the scurrying of numerous small four-legged creatures. Almost like in Manhattan, I observed. Garbage and small, hairy rats—the environment making tall, two-legged street rats feel at home.
In the shadows’ cover, I ventured on the search for an appropriate outfit. Although the rats around me didn’t wear anything but their fur either, street rats normally didn’t go nude.
In a narrow alley, on a clothesline between facing balconies on the fourth floor, I found what I needed.
Climbing up there was a welcome change. While my back still was itching, and my muscles complaining about the sudden strain, I didn’t have any problems with it. A few minutes later, I was down again and got dressed. Flashy red boxers and a white, freshly laundered tank top complemented my dirty feet for exactly the bold image I needed.
“Oooh—aaah—si—si—si—ahhhh!”
I gave the sounds from the open balcony door on the second floor a knowing smile. The couple wasn’t far from the climax.
Under different circumstances, I might have given them a little exciting surprise visit. At the moment, the nice reminder of people having room for love and passion despite all fate’s hardships sufficed for me.
It didn’t cost anything but the mutual agreement of two people to give each other happiness.
Elated, I continued my way into the city. I needed a little startup cash, and I wouldn’t take it from ordinary people.
“Hellooo, who have we got there?”
I had heard more inventive lines before, but the guy in his runner pants surely didn’t care for uniqueness. He went into a wide-legged stance and let his rising cock make a bulge in his pants. His companions spread to both sides to have a good view on the upcoming show.
“Giovanna,” I replied with mocked shyness.
“And what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
“I’m looking for something to eat.”
“You want to eat? There I’ve got something for you.” Next he unpacked his boner. “You may have all that’s coming.”
Yuck. He smelled as much like garbage as the surroundings, no good prerequisite for an extended blowjob.
“Actually, I don’t want that.”
“You think you’ve got a choice?” His laugh sounded ugly.
Sure, I had a choice. Only I didn’t want to unveil Velvet’s presence in this city toward these people. So I had to play the ordinary street rat that yielded to such a group of strong men.
In any case, I had one shot. I stepped close to him, stroked his penis with one hand, his neck with the other, then I gave him a kiss—he liked that!—and quickly pushed his cock past my shorts into my wet pussy. Which guy would want to get out there?
Not this one. For that, my tight wet tunnel felt simply too good. Moreover, this way his hands had better access to my tits.
“You don’t wear undies,” he breathlessly noticed between two kisses. Disregarding my nanos, he was right, so I didn’t comment on his remark. Instead, I let him feel a small share of my art to lead us together to an intense climax.
“Whoa!” he finally said, when I released his shrinking member from the firm grip of my pelvic muscles. He was much too exhausted, and his friends much too busy masturbating, to protest against my sudden disappearance.
Chapter Thirty-five
Rome—the eternal city. Millennia of human history, shaped into stone, were waiting for the visitor at every corner. Rome, seat of the Italian government, the goal of our mission. Rome, the city where I should search for Mafia Capos for Davide. Rome could have pleased me. But Rome wasn’t located at the seaside.
I wasn’t in Rome, but in Naples. What Rome was for the government, Naples was for organized crime—the heart of the Neapolitan Camorra. Naples breathed history, too, and not only for neighboring Pompeii. Only, they really could work on their garbage collection—this was a smelly issue.
The ideal origin for a true Mafia Capo, I thought. And why should a crime boss, for whom Rome had temporarily become too hot, go anywhere but home?
All that was fair enough for me. I matched this colorful mix of two- and four-legged rats perfectly.
On my way, I watched a small gang depriving a tavern owner of his day’s income, and followed them.
When the gang leader stopped at the next corner to count his booty, my time had come. I started running.
The guy saw a short blonde coming toward him and immediately tried to spot the danger I obviously was running away from. But there was nothing. So for a moment, he forgot to pack the money away—and I tore the entire bundle from his hand, doubled twice to dodge him and his partners, and thereby passed them.
“Hey!”
By the time they had decided to come after me, I already had a good head start—enough to bring a corner between me and possible leaded arguments.
Pattering told of their commencing pursuit. Good! I took care of not letting the distance become too large—that way it was easier for me not to slip on the partially hard, partially greasy ground—and presented them a brief glance at my naked legs now and then, before I disappeared around another corner.
A few minutes later, I noticed their trouble keeping up with me. So I had reached my second goal—they were too far away from the tavern and too devastated to return there.
Which I did instead. First, I made another turn, quickly climbed up the wall, and then I retraced my way across the rooftops.
Chapter Thirty-six
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br /> The innkeeper followed my advance from the entrance door to the counter with a grim stare that surely wouldn’t have failed in its effect with any other street rat. The two only other guests only gave me a quick side glance, and then delved back into the sports report projected at the wall before them.
“What do you want?”
“Food. What have you got?”
“Too expensive.”
“I’ve got money.” I tossed him a twenty-Euro note and climbed a stool. “That’s enough for a large serving of pasta and a beer?”
With a quick grab he let the note disappear. “Two beer, and then you leave, clear?”
“Clear, boss.”
“I’ll tell the kitchen.” He turned around and briefly disappeared behind the next swing door. Immediately he poked his head out again. “Spaghetti with two sauces, yes?”
“Yes, fine.”
“Okay—do that,” he called to the back, and then he returned to his tap and slowly poured my first beer. Again he examined me—most of all my tits, that is—and began to grin. “Makes you hungry, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“Sex.” He made the gesture of counting money. “A late John earns you a late dinner?”
“Oh. Yes, sure.”
“No hooking in my place, clear?”
“Not my plan, boss. Just eating. Oh—you just had visitors earlier, didn’t you?”
He leaned forward. “Shut up.”
I leaned likewise toward him. “Those guys were hunting a street rat and lost something.” I pushed most of the money over to him, only keeping another twenty for my breakfast.
The innkeeper looked surprised. “Where did you get that?”
“Just picked it up,” I lied.
He stared back and forth between me and the money bundle. “And why?”
That question didn’t refer to the picking-up. “It’s time for a change, now also in Italy and in Naples.”
“Why?”
“I’ve heard that the Cartel headquarters in Las Vegas was crushed. America is now ruled by the last free-elected President again.”
“How nice for them.”
“The American people are busy sending the Cartel’s remainders to hell.”
“Nice. What made them start?”
“Rumor has it, a certain Velvet has triggered it.”
“So, rumor?”
“Italy is nervous. Two days ago, a villa near Rome was attacked by the air force with missiles. At the same time, several combat helicopters had been in action, but all were shot down.”
“I’ve heard that, too. It was an exercise, and there was an accident.”
“So the current rulers say.”
“That’s the official statement.”
“A pile of Dragon crap.”
He flinched, but didn’t object.
“They were hunting someone.”
“With missiles?”
“Yes, incredible, isn’t it? A total overreaction. Why would you do such a thing, if you’re firmly in the saddle for years? Because there’s a very special reason?”
My counterpart’s gray matter was working hard, but he still lacked one crucial piece of information.
“Who does the Cartel’s Italian arm probably fear most?”
“Come, tell me.”
“Velvet’s in Italy.” Crap, yes. I did it again myself. Self-promotion in heroism, for the role I didn’t want to have. But what did it matter, if I had to complete a mission? After all, that name was well suited to teach my opponents fear, and it was likewise suited as a person with whom the citizens would identify, who would encourage them. Moreover, it was fun for me to foil the American President’s plans. I had to teach him about coordinating his plans with mine.
“How do you know?”
“My last John told me. He said, if I wasn’t blonde, I’d look like her.”
The first seed was sown. By the time I had finished my meal, I was the last guest. The innkeeper gave me another look, and then he said, “Okay. Thank you for the money. Need a place to sleep? You can stay here tonight.”
Probably he had only thought of a bench in his tavern, but I diligently followed him to his den, where I first washed my feet, and then slipped between the sheets with him. What a little street rat would do if she had the opportunity to win someone’s favor.
He neither objected to the quick ride before sleeping, nor to the blowjob during breakfast at his den.
“You don’t look like a genuine street rat, little one,” he said, just when I was about to leave him.
In the doorframe, I turned around with a cheeky sway of my hips. “No? Why?”
“Too clean, no scratches and bruises, too well-fed. Not the least jaded. No true street rat is so healthy. Who are you, really?”
Chapter Thirty-seven
The city villa looked posh. It wasn’t as large as the palace near Rome before the missiles had hit, but had three levels instead, where the uppermost floor probably contained the domestics’ apartments. In any case, the cream-yellow building behind the trellised-iron fence had numerous pillars, tall windows and a lot of fancy ornaments. It looked appropriately expensive for a Capo residence.
The two black suits at the gate watched my approach with likewise appropriate disapproval. When I was close enough, one of them addressed me. “Hey, you. Get away here.”
Any ordinary street rat would now have run as fast as she could. Nobody wanted to gain these people’s attention. Much too soon, you could become subject of a private show.
I smiled at his face and stepped even closer. “I want to visit your boss.”
“Get lost, or—” He let me have a glance at the pistol grip in his shoulder holster.
“Thanks,” I commented kindly, knocked him out with the left and simultaneously pulled his gun with my right hand.
The hand of his partner was already on its way to the latter’s shoulder holster, but I was quicker. My looted weapon’s grip landed on his skull and his gun in my hand, and then his back served me as a step from which I catapulted myself across the fence. With an easy bounce in my knees, I came down in the spacious garden.
With one snap of my fingers each, I uncocked both pistols and started running.
On the villa roof, men with plasma rifles—of which existed way too many for my taste—were just overcoming their surprise and about to aim at me. Unfortunately, they decided to lie flat down for that—the only targets left for me were their heads.
Two-two, I counted. How many rounds were these gun magazines holding? And how many more enemies would I find inside the villa?
The double-winged villa entrance door was closed. The windows on the two lower floors seemed to be bullet-proof, judging by the light refraction. I couldn’t simply run these barriers down.
I placed my bet firmly on the men’s subconscious macho reflexes, and I was right. A single, almost naked girl with two guns surely could be no reason to tuck their tails and barricade themselves inside?
So the two door wings swung open before I had reached them, and five men with protective vests and rattling machine pistols jumped toward me.
I was already rolling to the side across the ground, hoping that the recoil would push the machine pistols up and their shots would have to be aimed at waist level or above, and dealt out two shots with every half turn.
The fifth man had a theoretical opportunity to adjust his volley downward. He didn’t use it anymore.
—Five-four—
At this moment, my target might already be on his way to an emergency exit. I couldn’t waste a single second.
The side roll seamlessly became a rising screw. Quick steps carried me up the entrance stairs, through the door, into the hall—three silhouettes dared to enter my field of vision and promptly got their receipts.
—Six-six—
Directions.
—Footstep noises—eighteen persons. Fourteen approaching. Four d
eparting—second floor, east side—
At the same time, my Analogy conveyed an inverted image of the eastern face, as I had seen it on my previous trip around this building block, to me. Yes, there was a fire escape.
I was already on my way to the entrance hall’s east door. Why should I make an effort to reach the second floor, where I’d have to butcher my way through scores of bodyguards?
Down here, two were coming for me, and thanks to their steps I already knew where their way behind the door would have taken them once I had come through.
The necessary corrections were minimal. With frightening precision, I brought death to two more men. Fight to kill. Where did I know this aphorism from?
It was—Dragonish. Logical. Inevitable. My Analogy could as easily calculate my win probability at poker as my chances for this mission, depending on whether I left all trump cards to the enemy or actively improved my odds. According to these calculations, I had no reasonable alternative.
There was one door leading outside at the end of the building, and the fugitives’ steps had already reached the end above me. Good. It would be inconvenient if I’d go outside and they’d turn around above. I was in no mood for this kind of cat-and-mouse.
Four targets left, seven shots used up each. How many rounds did the magazine of these rather compact, slim pistols in my hand hold?
I’d at least have one shot each—I’d have heard and sensed if the mechanism wouldn’t have inserted another round into the barrel, moreover, the sliders of many pistols remained open when the last round was spent.
Two plus x rounds, four targets—plus all those I now had left behind. Someone ahead of me would have to pass his gun to me.
According to the vibrations, three persons were moving down the fire ladder, one had already reached the ground. I gave the emergency exit ahead a gentle push on the handle, so that it swung open without unnecessary, attention-stirring noise, shot the one person on the ground down—click, empty—and dashed out.
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