| Subject: Chapter 133 - rated 18+ |
Author:
Lynuslinus
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Date Posted: Tuesday, September 07, 08:35:23pm
In reply to:
Lynuslinus
's message, "Whispered Identities - Chapter 129 and forward" on Sunday, August 22, 06:05:27pm
At the Pascalli villa in Milan, Verono entered her husband’s study to find him on the telephone. He had returned that morning from Torino. Verono turned to leave upon seeing him engaged in an animated conversation but he waved at her to be seated.
Vitto Pascalli hung up the desk telephone, sat down slowly at his desk and reached for a cigar from an ornate humidor. Verono smiled at her husband.
“It’s so good having you home...Angelique has gone shopping for a new dress for her recitals in London and Edinburgh and will be delighted you have returned.”
Vitto Pascalli clipped the end from the Cuban cigar and lit it slowly with a wooden match. He looked over at his wife.
“I understand we....you had guests staying here at the villa.”
“Ahhhhh....why yes. Michel Therrien and his female traveling companion. They only stayed a couple of days...Alfred assisted Michel with the purchase of an automobile and.....I know you don’t approve of intelligence agents coming into our home Vitto...but I couldn’t turn them away. Michel has put his life on the line for Interpol so many time and I felt.....”
“Where are they now?”
“Well.....I....ahhh....north I believe....Germany and on to Sweden.....I’m sorry Vitto ....I realize I had promised you to give up any involvement with Interpol...and I have! They needed a place to stay for two days while arrangements were made to purchase a Mercedes.”
“And you did that?”
“No! Alfred completed the transaction....I understand Michel performed a computer money transfer.”
“Why did he chose you Verono? Why come here?”
“Vitto....you know one does not ask specific details of a mission. They must be working on a special Interpol case...their passports and car had been stolen. I apologize but they needed a .....”
“.....a place to hide! I have told you repeatedly not to have any contact with agents from your former life....and Alfred also. I will be dismissing the man immediately!”
“That’s not fair to Alfred! I asked him to assist Michel and after all, he too was once an agent for....”
“Enough! You have no idea how you have involved us in matters beyond our capacity to maintain our lives here in Milan!”
“Vitto! I don’t understand...what are you talking about!”
Pascalli rose from his desk and walked around to Verono; he leaned into her face.
“You stupid woman! Do you think our art galleries allow us to live in the manner....YOU....have become accustom! I have people to answer to....and now you have assisted a rogue agent and his whore!”
“Vitto....what are you talking about and how do you know about Michel going rogue!”
“Never mind,” he shouted, storming to a side board and pouring a whiskey into a crystal glass. “I must travel to Corsica in the morning and attempt to create an explanation for this! But first...I want all the details about the Mercedes that was purchased....get Alfred to contact the dealership.”
Verono rose and walked to her husband’s side and stroked his shoulder. “Please Vitto....I don’t understand this....what people....are you working for..... some group....”
He brushed her arm away and gulped down the whiskey. “You are such a stupid woman Verono....I married you because of your usefulness divulging intel regarding Interpol ....oh, and yes, your performance in bed...although that has come into question lately.”
Tears began to streak down Verono’s face. “Whaaat? What are you saying Vitto...what has happened to you? Why are you speaking to me like this!”
“ENOUGH! And keep your mouth shut about this conversation when Angelique returns...unless you want to involve her in your mess!”
“Vitto! No! What is this about....I don’t understand!”
“Get out and send Alfred in here....now!”
The following morning, Vitto Pascalli boarded a plane for Nice, France and upon arriving, was escorted on board a private jet that was to fly him to Calvi, Corsica. Five other men were aboard the private jet but no one spoke. As the jet taxied to a stop at a private airstrip in Calvi, the occupants de-planed and two limousines whisked the men to a villa high on a rocky bluff, overlooking the Mar Ligure in the Mediterranean. The men were ushered into a large boardroom and seated themselves at an rectangular table. The room was dimly lit and all windows were screened to prevent the sun of the Mediterranean from entering. Two waiters took drink orders and once the refreshments had been placed before the occupants, the entire assembly sat in silence, waiting.
After ten minutes, the large doors at the end of the boardroom swung open and seven men entered. Leading the men was Declan Quinn from MI-6, followed by Raphael Esperanzo of Interpol, George B. Delaney from the CIA, Haim Cohenburg from the Israeli Mossad, Vladimir Utzechko of the Russian FSB, successor of the KGB, Jean Balcour, of the French SDECE and Lin Win Won from the Chinese Ministry of State Security.
Once the seven men seated themselves at a parallel head table, Raphael Esperanzo stood and addressed the assembly.
“Gentlemen, I thank you for coming on such short notice. You all know and understand our manifesto in Medusa. The main objectives for our organization have and will remain the same: That of circumventing the role of governments and politicians in intelligence agencies, the laundering of terrorist and drug cartel funds for our own purposes, working with and manipulating terrorists organizations and the disposal of agents who threaten our ultimate goal - that of one world wide organization - Medusa - controlling the final decision making process and thus preventing individual powers from creating chaos in the world.”
Esperanzo took a sip of water, swallowed and smiled. “And of course, if we all profit from our enterprises, so be it.”
The men applauded and wrapped their fists on the table. Esperanzo held up his hand, silencing the assembly.
“Now, we have a large agenda to cover regarding trade issues between South American states and planned disruption of European economic conferences. But there is one issue that has come to our attention and is of some importance: that of a rogue agent who has the capacity to expose some of our enterprises. I will ask our associate Mr. Declan Quinn from MI-6 to address you on this issue.”
At the far end of the table Vitto Pascalli looked down at his hands clasped on the table; he began to sweat although the room was cool. Quinn rose from his chair and cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen....you all have received some form of intel on this rogue agent - Michael Therrien Samuelle. We had apprehended this man in Venice but he escaped due to the ineptitude of the terrorist group we were working with. He disappeared for some time but has now resurfaced in northern Italy after purchasing false identity papers. His current whereabouts are unknown but we have positive intel on the automobile he purchased in Milan. The details are on your PDA’s. Samuelle is traveling with a rogue MI-6 agent, who I hasten to add, was originally with Section One and on temporary loan to MI-6. She was with him in Venice but was captured and returned to London; then was used to lure him out of hiding, but once she located Samuelle.....well, shall we say, decided to join him....they are no doubt lovers. The most recent photographs of the two are also on your PDA’s. Although Samuelle and the woman agent have made no apparent attempt to expose our organization, the threat exists. They must both be caught and disposed of. The reward value has been increased to $1 million for both of them.”
A murmur shot through the room; the men nodding their heads in agreement.
“Gentlemen, it is of the utmost importance these two be apprehended. Once our meetings have ended here on Corsica, please expedite any and every means to capture these two rogue agents...all pertinent intel will be found on your PDA’s. Thank you.”
Esperanzo rose and addressed the group. “We will adjourn for one hour to allow you to attend to person needs then re-assemble to began work. Meeting adjourned for one hour.”
The men around the table rose, gathering their PDA’s and paperwork and made their way from the boardroom. Vitto Pascalli hovered at the end of the room and slowly made his way to Quinn and Esperanzo.
“Excuse me gentlemen...the name is Vitto Pascalli...art dealer from Milan. I was the one who supplied the details regarding the Mercedes Samuelle purchased. I....ahhh...well, wondered if their was any possibility a portion of the reward would be forthcoming....”
Quinn glared at Pascalli. “It is my understanding your wife harbored the two in your home Pascalli!”
“Yes! Yes, this is true, but she was a former Interpol agent...as was my butler...she acted only in the spirit of supporting Interpol...thinking Samuelle was on a mission!”
“Perhaps. But your wife must be made aware of the consequences of such actions. She should have reported their presence to us immediately.”
“She had no reason too! She is totally unaware, as she should be, of this organization and my part in it!”
“Hummmm,” smirked Quinn. “Very well...but the reward is only for the disposal of the agents....now you best go along to your room....to rest, for the agenda is long.”
“Yes...yes, thank you,” stammered Pascalli, bowing as he backed out of the room.
Quinn stood with Esperanzo shaking his head. “Idiot, the man’s an idiot.”
“He performs a function with the organization through his connections in the art world. But I understand you have your own plans for snaring Samuelle.”
“Yes, and this time, I’m directing it myself. As you know, intelligence services have two basic ways of trying to catch terrorists, or in this case, a rogue agent. We can use our superior technology to intercept the agent’s communications, or we can penetrate his world by inserting a spy or convincing an existing operative to switch sides.”
“Hummm, yes, sounds interesting,” replied Esperanzo.
“Well, this plan has a double edge. Once we track the whereabout of the Mercedes and Samuelle with his blonde agent, we will entice him through an old friend, a Rene Laval from his university days. Laval would turn in his own mother for money.”
“And the double edge sword?”
“Convincing an existing operative to switch sides....or in this case, convincing his blonde, Nikita Jones to turn him in.”
“What! I though they were lovers...why would she betray Samuelle?”
“Her father is head of Center...but currently very ill...dying....he is under our care and protection...we will convince her to betray Samuelle or we will kill her father.”
“So either way, she would want to see her dying father or prevent him from being killed....very inventive, Declan.”
“Yes, I thought so. Come, let’s get a bite to eat...I didn’t have breakfast before the flight from London.”
The two men headed towards the large exit doors of the boardroom.
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