Story Notes:
This story at some point will contain mild drug use, some violence, some ethical qualms, and a touch of lasciviousness in future chapters, after which I'll upgrade the rating to XXX.
First Move
The Blue Sky sailed through the busy European skies, populated with domestic planes and small cotton candy clouds that seemed to drift lazy in the opposite direction. The wings sheared through the airborne water like soft wool off the back of a lamb, clean and white. Down below, all the grass seemed to mesh into a solid carpet of dirty green, spotted by the grays of civilization.
Onboard, the three adventurers settled down to watch the last part of a short film that Greco had called "Tunisian Enterprise: The End of L'Empire Dellamar." Melissa seemed largely disinterested in the historical details, content with knowing the general details, but just like anyone else who worked for Greco, he always submitted them to a usually boring lecture tape. Kaz, on the other hand, was always interested in learning something new, if only for the potential value he could attribute to whatever they found. Although he claimed historical ignorance back in their Pacific Front home when discussing the deal with Mr. Seneca; in years past leading up to his Doctorate in Anthropology, he did a lot of research on this very topic of the last great Mediterranean empire.
"Kaz, does Greco always do this?" the mawile asked with her arms folded.
"Do what, Mel?"
"The whole..." She moved her hands about, seemingly trying to grab onto her words that were floating away, "...sitting us down, 'bringing a tape out so that we learn to respect the history' of whatever we are looting thing. It feels superfluous considering our line of work. If we really wanted to respect the stuff, shouldn't these finds go to museums?"
"Well... why not?" the kecleon responded. "The history helps us value the finds and allows us to better market it to wealthy and more history-minded individuals. Anthropology is a valuable field of study, you know. Even so, maybe it means something different for Greco. This is his life work that he is digging up." Greco came back with a rather dusty looking VHS and a small VCR, an artifact by today's standards, imprinted with a little number code, and a crudely drawn emblem similar to their company's current one.
"A VHS, Greco?" Melissa uttered with an air of amusement. Kaz just quietly laughed. Greco ignored them and set up the widescreen to play from his VCR. With great care, he inserted the tape and sat down on the couch. Onscreen, a somewhat young-looking treecko dressed in his Sunday's best sat in front of a boardroom with a few other older individuals, also well dressed. His clothing appeared to be second-hand and not a perfect fit on him, but he seemed to stand proud, if a bit nervous. In his hand, he held a small dirty lead box that intrigued audience members, stirring the crowd just a bit. What appeared to be the teacher, a relicanth in a fish bowl, made a small gesture with his pectoral fin and the young pokemon began speaking.
"Remember this: Keep your enemies close and your friends closer... erm... I did that wrong." There was a bit of laughter coming from the other students and from Kaz and Melissa. "What I meant was keep your friends close and your enemies closer. However, when you incorporate your enemy into your nation, you eventually become vulnerable. The Tunisians under the leadership of the Roserades took advantage of Corsican ingenuity and technology and took advantage of their distance from their rulers in order to negotiate deals with external nations to set the stage for the dissolving of the empire. And..."
Greco hit the fast forward, passing through about twenty minutes of information. When he pressed play again, the treecko on the television had a chart that detailed trade routes in the early 13th century... for an hour.
Eventually, the little treecko on the screen pointed to the lead box that was hardly forgotten by the crowd. He opened it up and brought out a very small and ornate goblet, encrusted with an emerald outline, minimal gold painting, and some words in Middle French that many could not understand. The goblet has been worn down. There were indentations from when it crashed into the ground during its useful life. There were certain cleared areas that jewels once adorned, yet the goblet remained heavy.
"Now, one thing of great significance during this era was the discovery of something monks and historians of the time termed hell's pitchblende. This metal was found after a devastating earthquake that struck in the center of Tunisian landmass. Myth stated that it stole the souls of whoever worked with it. In truth, may of those who used it more likely died from terrible radiation sickness from overexposure, about 100x more than the daily exposure to Radon we have."
"This is Princess Armada's goblet on loan from the Smithsonian." His audience was dead quiet and those in front shifted backwards.
Greco unhurriedly paused the tape, glancing behind for any signs of continued interest in his past scholastic research. Of course, Mench stared down Greco, tempting him to eject the video, pouting with her lips and signaling her desire to go back to her Ultimate Fighter programming. A minute of uninterrupted eye contact and he relented, removing his research from the ancient VCR.
"Greco," uttered the fatigued kecleon, who unlike Mench had not been so vocal about his lack of full interest in old videos but had remained relatively unconscious during the bulk of the film. "Can you put the tape back in to where it talked about Armada's shoes? I kind of think I misheard something there." The girl who sat on the other side of the couch slid closer and whispered something in the chameleon's ear that made him feel quite uneasy. "On second thought, why don't you just tell us what it said?"
Delaney looked at his mawile partner then back at his long-time partner, shaking his head in disappointment.
"OK, Armada's shoes are potentially radioactive, casting off beta and gamma particles. Since it was a good 20 pounds, we must be careful extracting them from wherever they might be. Who knows how much the beta and gamma radiation could have affected her but I do know neither Kaz nor I can handle it safely without having a lead box. Same goes for you, Mench."
"Are you saying that I have to go down to retrieve it?" she snapped back. "Nuh Uh, no way I am going down there alone. We are getting a lead box and YOU," she pointed right at the chest of the grovyle. "YOU will be diving with me, Mister Greco."
"Doctor Greco," Kaz feebly remarked, watching the two somewhat older pokemon approach each other, leering at each other, both looking incredibly tense. They walked away from each other, however, as the seatbelt sign came on. The television set folded back into the cargo area and many of the unsecured objects receded into the cockpit. The young collegian kecleon shrank into his seat; hopefully, things won't get worse on the ground.
Draco deposited the Raiders in Florence before taking off once more with dreams of touching the deep blue heavens with 20K extra euros in his pocket. Greco rented out a small cottage that overlooked the Renaissance walls. He stood on the rooftops, scouting out potential locations for geological databases as well as a physical history of Italy. Over 340,000 lived within this ancient city of pastels, brown and chalk colored, blending into the surrounding earth. In the distance, Brunelleschi's Duomo, easily the most recognizable piece of the Florentine skyline capped the top of the Santa Maria del Fiore, one of the many local extensions of Vatican power. Nearby, the ornate Campanile tower, created by the architect Giotto still stands. Indeed, this place was wonderfully classical. Maybe someday, Greco would have time to visit as a tourist sometime. For now, he was captain and researcher of an elite rare hunter squad of three. At least, an outsider would say so from outward appearances.
"We have shipped our main materials down to Sicily," shouted Mench. She did not know he was on the roof and looked high and low for him. "Why aren't we going straight to Sicily anyways?"
"Because it is the safer alternative to going directly," replied Greco. "This is where we will plan our adventure. This is the staging moment in our quest for these shoes. This is how our operations keep on track and ready for any surprises." He waved his hand in the air haughtily. "We will earn that money for sure, guys."
Kaz coughed a bit loudly. Even after working with Greco for a decade, he still could not understand why Greco always made that statement when it was rarely true. In the past year, all their planning and preparation netted them zero dollars. Melissa seemed to notice the obvious falsehood of the grovyle's bravado but shrugged it off as just another quirk.
"Greco, let's review the plan before we split for Rome."
-----------------
Moutons de l'Ambition
Morneau exited Le Metro at Gara de Lyon, where she had parked her car earlier in the morning. She drove a small Japanese car, typical like the normal Euro Cars, only different because it was made for America and not the EU. Her driver side was opposite what she expected, a gaffe she made buying the car online at an auction site for repossessed vehicles. Her coworkers often chalked it up to her unusual behavior and never made much of a deal about it except for when she gave quick presentations on new cases concerning cars. So long as it got her from place to place, she didn't really care. If it did indeed bother her, she would be able to afford a new car on her heavily taxed salary. The case of a lifetime had apparently landed in her lap today, an opportunity she couldn't let slip through her fingers. She needed to be careful, decisive, and coolheaded when tackling this high-risk "Doctor." If she is successful, advancement is in her future.
*Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh*
*Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh*
"Commencez!"
*Ruh Ruh Ruh Sputter Sputter*
"Il nous..."
Her car finally started. The car jumped forward a little bit then began to move smoothly out of the parking lot and towards the German Border. Determined to get off on the right foot, she went with the lead she received from one of her informants that would take her to MNL Airport in Metz.
------------
Simple Plan
The three artifact hunters sat in the veranda of a local restaurant. Greco puffed on a long-awaited cigarette as Kaz and Melissa dined. Much idle chat was made concerning the rather woody flavor of just about everything that came out of the oven. Eventually, the chatter died down as the grovyle pulled out a notebook and a myriad of scrap paper.
"Business as usual," started Greco. "We will start this planning session with what I have already written down. Please hold off on any of your annoying commentary, Mench, until I go over the multiple layers of this plan."
Mench didn't say a word; her narrowed eyes did all the talking.
"Done leering at me? All right, you two will need to get a list full of items down in Rome. The countryside of Italy doesn't offer the high-tech equipment we need and Sicily is too much trouble. Of course, I do not expect you guys to finish in one day so please stay at the Hotel Morgana. I get a discount there and you guys can use the vault there to hold stuff that wouldn't be readily perceived as 'illegal.'" He handed them each a copy of his list. A few of the items were slightly different but the gist was the same. Still, something bugged the geeky lizard.
"But Greco," interrupted the kecleon. He lifted off his glasses and started wiping them with his lens cleaner. "Doesn't [i]she[/i] own that hotel now? The one you left behind all those years ago in that ugly event?"
"She's over it," Greco stated plainly. "While you guys do the shopping, I will be conducting some geological reconnaissance in the library and if possible from the air in Rome. Of course, I will be joining you guys tomorrow evening, so do not forget to pick me up from the airport. Any questions?"
"Let's see... 2kg TNT and seven detonators. I see lessons are hard learned" Melissa scoffed at the use of explosives, especially since she had the power to provide the rock-breaking function with safety in mind. "IF you recall your incarceration, you blew up about 6 blocks causing injury to hundreds of people and destroying property. A foreign government is still looking for you because of your past."
"Look, the explosives and the subsequent damage was not, is not, and never will be my fault," he retorted.
"But you plead guilty," she remarked under her breath.
"Mel, I did the calculation for these explosives," Kaz Jergan piped. "We will need them underwater where their power will not be diluted as much as yours would be. Trust me on this one. The artifact is likely located near the center of the Mediterranean so we will need to scuba dive off the coast of Sicily to get even close to the location."
"Thanks for the wrap-up, Kaz. Ok, any questions? No one?"
For a moment, neither raised their hands. It was a day in heaven when neither of them had any questions, comments, disagreements or suggestions. Surely, one of them would comment about the sheer simplicity of the plan. After all, this was their fourth attempt at income for this fiscal year. He started to breathe a sigh of relief. Greco remembered how Mench would always remind him of their winter expedition to Colombia to hunt down some Incan artifacts. No one supposedly knew about the vast collection of pottery and statues still unearthed in the forests. In black market circles, however, word travels fast. He could barely withstand the shock when he and his partners arrived at their destination only to discover plenty of Colombian personnel surrounding the area of the dig as well as army trucks full of Incan souvenirs. When Kaz got the bright idea of stealing from the trucks, the Colombians opened fire on the poor hunters. They paid approximately fifty grand to bribe their passports back from the authorities.
Sometimes, even the more agreeable Kaz was not above mentioning their Lesotho ordeal. Lesotho, a small country nestled inside of South Africa was home to the Khosian hunter-gatherers. Apparently, there were artifacts left behind from a massacre in the Leribe region of the Khosa hundreds of years earlier and an agent of some museum wanted to collect some of that for an exhibit about ancient and modern genocide. Of course, after the Colombian failure, he was eager to make back the money and everything went according to plan... except for the original contract. The cost of unearthing these artifacts were exasperated by local government officials seeking handouts, vandalism by local children, erosion by heavy rains, and demoralization by the net result. The artifacts totaled less than $2500, yet it cost twenty-fold to prepare the goods for transfer of title. Since the contract called for the agent to pay fair value for the goods, The Raiders had no choice but to take a disastrous loss. Melissa would have been all over Greco for this one, except that she took charge of finances.
"Seriously no questions?" Greco asked once more in disbelief.
"I have none." Melissa said finally. She had been anxiously rubbing on her iron "horn" for the last ten minutes, restraining herself from making longer comments. The lack of speaking was almost too much for her to bear.
"But I do have a comment" she continued anyway. "This mission just doesn't give me a good vibe. This little deep-sea thing in a paradise reminds me about... that last request we got from Mr. Yuca the "Shoe lover." You remember. I'm sure you both remember. Right?" Her eyes watered a bit and she rubbed her horn soothingly.
Of course, they remembered, but the details are a bit different depending on who one talked to. For Delaney and Jergan, an aggressive inferno engulfed their vessel and left them stranded at sea for two days. A rival of theirs had attacked them in the night on their way from Hawaii to Nihau. Neither of them could have seen the attack coming. Just as they were getting ready to settle in for the night, two sea-lanes dropped incendiaries on the deck. They fought to stomp it out but the flames were unquenchable. They soon realized that Melissa was stuck below deck and struggled to get her through the fire and off the boat. By the time rescue boats reached them, Melissa suffered from dehydration and 3% coverage second-degree burns on her back. She ended up hospitalized for an extra week. No one ever wants to bring it up.
"That one started with a simple plan, too. You managed to stir up trouble there and I almost died in a fire at SEA!"
The two guys pulled in close to her and patted her on the back.
"Look, this is a tough line of work," said the grovyle quietly. "Hitches are bound to happen, but I trust you guys enough to know you will do your best to remedy the situation." Kaz nodded in agreement.
They paid for their lunch and returned to the cabin. Melissa and Kaz picked up the money, shopping lists and the appropriate transport containers and took off on a speed train to Rome while Greco sat down and started arranging for tomorrow's research.
-------
Moutons Insensibles
Draco stumbled into his little office not too far from the MNL Airport, tired from an evening of celebration with fellow pilots. His vintage WWII aviator goggles laid on his head off-kilter and his shoulders barely clung to his bomber jacket. In his hand, he had an Air Force Cap as well as two Cuban cigars. His cheeks were rosy red from inebriation and happiness. As he shuffled over to his desk, he kicked off his shoes into some far corner and tossed his jacket and cap on the coat rack. The bagon floated like a feather into his comfy chair and tuned his music system to "NY Rush" by The Seatbelts.
A shelf nearby held his flight school certificates, his business license, and a suitcase full of money. He had almost lost track of how much money he garnered from his one deal with Delaney and the others. Was it 50K or 60? It didn't really matter. It was really just a lot of money to him.
"One step closer to my dreams," he thought, quietly gazing at his money. Soon, he heard a light rap on the door to his office, in spite of his music.
"Come on in!" he said in the loudest voice he could before chuckling to himself. Soon, the door swung wide open, revealing a flaafy woman. Eliza Morneau had been following him all night but said little of anything to him until visiting him at his office. She seemed right out of the old comic book detective stories, wearing the latest Parisian styles, a black hat, soft black gloves and a stunning black dress that glittered in the moonlit office. Around her shoulders, synthetic fur of unknown origin hugged her curves and gently rest inside her elbows. Her lips were slightly pursed and a visible mole seemed to match the overall look. The light glow of her face, through rosy red like his, belied any malevolent intentions.
"Welcome to the future home of Blue Sky Inc., a privately owned international transportation business featuring private jets that can take you to any destination in the world in first class style. I am future Air Force Pilot Draco Bathings at your service, madam. May I offer you a token of my appreciation for your formal wear?" He was still on the hill of non-sobriety.
"Merci, monsieur pilot." She smiled politely as she curtsied. "I see that something marvelous has happened to you this night. May I ask what you are celebrating?" She moved to sit opposite him, but sat askew so that she would face him at an angle.
"Well, miss, I have stumbled upon the greatest opportunity I could have to enjoy my dream of being an Air Force pilot all the while having a nice cus..." he stopped himself short. For a spit moment, he glanced over to the stand where the case of money was stored then back at the woman in front of him. He quickly sobered up when he noticed her following his gaze. Did she notice him glance at the briefcase? "Um, are you here for a flight or something?" he asked, in a businesslike manner. "If so, I can direct you to one of my associates. I am in no condition to fly."
"Of course..." She sighed a bit. She accidentally drew his suspicion and now had to switch gears. She stood up and moved to leave, glancing over her shoulder. "It's not polite, monsieur, to turn down a customer." She moved back towards him and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs and leaning in towards him, her cleavage teasingly revealed. However, her eyes drew his attention more so than any other part of her body; they seemed cold and domineering.
"Well now, you don't really want to kick me out of your office, do you?" She dropped her badge in his lap. "I could make your life rather miserable otherwise."
"I...I...Interpol! Please leave my establishment." He pleaded and begged her to leave his premises but she just encroached on his personal space with those harsh dark brown eyes, deaf to his complaints. She was too tired and just a bit tipsy to continue with the façade.
"Now then, transport any [i]criminels[/i] lately, monsieur?" she barked.
"Cri-mi-what?"
"[i]Criminels[/i] Bathings, [i]Criminels[/i]! Dr. Greco Delaney? Mr. Kaz Jergan? Mrs. Melissa Mench?"
"No, no, and no! Now get out! Part of my company policy is that I do not divulge the private information of clientele without an information warrant."
He gained an advantage over her, but she wasn't going to back down without a fight. She pulled away from him and quickly scooped up his precious suitcase of dreams. She laughed quietly to herself as she watched his eyes follow the suitcase and his muscles tensing up.
"Give... that... back...," he said, his voice rising in anger and frustration. He stood up rather gradually as she continued to taunt him with the case. He started to approach but then she stuck out an electrified arm. Her dress cast a haunting reflection of the light emitted from the electricity, making her almost glow like earlier, except instead of beauty, one could help but shy away from her.
"Imagine if I burn this box. It is money in here, [i]oui[/i]? If it burns, your dreams end right here because you refused to talk about your dealings. Looks like it's carrying quite a bit." She smiled and started increasing the strength of her electricity. The smell of burning quickly filled the air.
"Wait!" he finally said, head hung in shame. "I'll talk."
Satisfied, she tossed down a notepad and a pen. "Please, write down the details and tell me where you dropped them off, monsieur? Oh I do have a warrant for questioning but I felt magnanimous today. I didn't want to take the fun out of your celebrations and take you back to Paris." She set that at the edge of the table and laughed.
Onboard, the three adventurers settled down to watch the last part of a short film that Greco had called "Tunisian Enterprise: The End of L'Empire Dellamar." Melissa seemed largely disinterested in the historical details, content with knowing the general details, but just like anyone else who worked for Greco, he always submitted them to a usually boring lecture tape. Kaz, on the other hand, was always interested in learning something new, if only for the potential value he could attribute to whatever they found. Although he claimed historical ignorance back in their Pacific Front home when discussing the deal with Mr. Seneca; in years past leading up to his Doctorate in Anthropology, he did a lot of research on this very topic of the last great Mediterranean empire.
"Kaz, does Greco always do this?" the mawile asked with her arms folded.
"Do what, Mel?"
"The whole..." She moved her hands about, seemingly trying to grab onto her words that were floating away, "...sitting us down, 'bringing a tape out so that we learn to respect the history' of whatever we are looting thing. It feels superfluous considering our line of work. If we really wanted to respect the stuff, shouldn't these finds go to museums?"
"Well... why not?" the kecleon responded. "The history helps us value the finds and allows us to better market it to wealthy and more history-minded individuals. Anthropology is a valuable field of study, you know. Even so, maybe it means something different for Greco. This is his life work that he is digging up." Greco came back with a rather dusty looking VHS and a small VCR, an artifact by today's standards, imprinted with a little number code, and a crudely drawn emblem similar to their company's current one.
"A VHS, Greco?" Melissa uttered with an air of amusement. Kaz just quietly laughed. Greco ignored them and set up the widescreen to play from his VCR. With great care, he inserted the tape and sat down on the couch. Onscreen, a somewhat young-looking treecko dressed in his Sunday's best sat in front of a boardroom with a few other older individuals, also well dressed. His clothing appeared to be second-hand and not a perfect fit on him, but he seemed to stand proud, if a bit nervous. In his hand, he held a small dirty lead box that intrigued audience members, stirring the crowd just a bit. What appeared to be the teacher, a relicanth in a fish bowl, made a small gesture with his pectoral fin and the young pokemon began speaking.
"Remember this: Keep your enemies close and your friends closer... erm... I did that wrong." There was a bit of laughter coming from the other students and from Kaz and Melissa. "What I meant was keep your friends close and your enemies closer. However, when you incorporate your enemy into your nation, you eventually become vulnerable. The Tunisians under the leadership of the Roserades took advantage of Corsican ingenuity and technology and took advantage of their distance from their rulers in order to negotiate deals with external nations to set the stage for the dissolving of the empire. And..."
Greco hit the fast forward, passing through about twenty minutes of information. When he pressed play again, the treecko on the television had a chart that detailed trade routes in the early 13th century... for an hour.
Eventually, the little treecko on the screen pointed to the lead box that was hardly forgotten by the crowd. He opened it up and brought out a very small and ornate goblet, encrusted with an emerald outline, minimal gold painting, and some words in Middle French that many could not understand. The goblet has been worn down. There were indentations from when it crashed into the ground during its useful life. There were certain cleared areas that jewels once adorned, yet the goblet remained heavy.
"Now, one thing of great significance during this era was the discovery of something monks and historians of the time termed hell's pitchblende. This metal was found after a devastating earthquake that struck in the center of Tunisian landmass. Myth stated that it stole the souls of whoever worked with it. In truth, may of those who used it more likely died from terrible radiation sickness from overexposure, about 100x more than the daily exposure to Radon we have."
"This is Princess Armada's goblet on loan from the Smithsonian." His audience was dead quiet and those in front shifted backwards.
Greco unhurriedly paused the tape, glancing behind for any signs of continued interest in his past scholastic research. Of course, Mench stared down Greco, tempting him to eject the video, pouting with her lips and signaling her desire to go back to her Ultimate Fighter programming. A minute of uninterrupted eye contact and he relented, removing his research from the ancient VCR.
"Greco," uttered the fatigued kecleon, who unlike Mench had not been so vocal about his lack of full interest in old videos but had remained relatively unconscious during the bulk of the film. "Can you put the tape back in to where it talked about Armada's shoes? I kind of think I misheard something there." The girl who sat on the other side of the couch slid closer and whispered something in the chameleon's ear that made him feel quite uneasy. "On second thought, why don't you just tell us what it said?"
Delaney looked at his mawile partner then back at his long-time partner, shaking his head in disappointment.
"OK, Armada's shoes are potentially radioactive, casting off beta and gamma particles. Since it was a good 20 pounds, we must be careful extracting them from wherever they might be. Who knows how much the beta and gamma radiation could have affected her but I do know neither Kaz nor I can handle it safely without having a lead box. Same goes for you, Mench."
"Are you saying that I have to go down to retrieve it?" she snapped back. "Nuh Uh, no way I am going down there alone. We are getting a lead box and YOU," she pointed right at the chest of the grovyle. "YOU will be diving with me, Mister Greco."
"Doctor Greco," Kaz feebly remarked, watching the two somewhat older pokemon approach each other, leering at each other, both looking incredibly tense. They walked away from each other, however, as the seatbelt sign came on. The television set folded back into the cargo area and many of the unsecured objects receded into the cockpit. The young collegian kecleon shrank into his seat; hopefully, things won't get worse on the ground.
Draco deposited the Raiders in Florence before taking off once more with dreams of touching the deep blue heavens with 20K extra euros in his pocket. Greco rented out a small cottage that overlooked the Renaissance walls. He stood on the rooftops, scouting out potential locations for geological databases as well as a physical history of Italy. Over 340,000 lived within this ancient city of pastels, brown and chalk colored, blending into the surrounding earth. In the distance, Brunelleschi's Duomo, easily the most recognizable piece of the Florentine skyline capped the top of the Santa Maria del Fiore, one of the many local extensions of Vatican power. Nearby, the ornate Campanile tower, created by the architect Giotto still stands. Indeed, this place was wonderfully classical. Maybe someday, Greco would have time to visit as a tourist sometime. For now, he was captain and researcher of an elite rare hunter squad of three. At least, an outsider would say so from outward appearances.
"We have shipped our main materials down to Sicily," shouted Mench. She did not know he was on the roof and looked high and low for him. "Why aren't we going straight to Sicily anyways?"
"Because it is the safer alternative to going directly," replied Greco. "This is where we will plan our adventure. This is the staging moment in our quest for these shoes. This is how our operations keep on track and ready for any surprises." He waved his hand in the air haughtily. "We will earn that money for sure, guys."
Kaz coughed a bit loudly. Even after working with Greco for a decade, he still could not understand why Greco always made that statement when it was rarely true. In the past year, all their planning and preparation netted them zero dollars. Melissa seemed to notice the obvious falsehood of the grovyle's bravado but shrugged it off as just another quirk.
"Greco, let's review the plan before we split for Rome."
-----------------
Moutons de l'Ambition
Morneau exited Le Metro at Gara de Lyon, where she had parked her car earlier in the morning. She drove a small Japanese car, typical like the normal Euro Cars, only different because it was made for America and not the EU. Her driver side was opposite what she expected, a gaffe she made buying the car online at an auction site for repossessed vehicles. Her coworkers often chalked it up to her unusual behavior and never made much of a deal about it except for when she gave quick presentations on new cases concerning cars. So long as it got her from place to place, she didn't really care. If it did indeed bother her, she would be able to afford a new car on her heavily taxed salary. The case of a lifetime had apparently landed in her lap today, an opportunity she couldn't let slip through her fingers. She needed to be careful, decisive, and coolheaded when tackling this high-risk "Doctor." If she is successful, advancement is in her future.
*Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh*
*Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh Ruh*
"Commencez!"
*Ruh Ruh Ruh Sputter Sputter*
"Il nous..."
Her car finally started. The car jumped forward a little bit then began to move smoothly out of the parking lot and towards the German Border. Determined to get off on the right foot, she went with the lead she received from one of her informants that would take her to MNL Airport in Metz.
------------
Simple Plan
The three artifact hunters sat in the veranda of a local restaurant. Greco puffed on a long-awaited cigarette as Kaz and Melissa dined. Much idle chat was made concerning the rather woody flavor of just about everything that came out of the oven. Eventually, the chatter died down as the grovyle pulled out a notebook and a myriad of scrap paper.
"Business as usual," started Greco. "We will start this planning session with what I have already written down. Please hold off on any of your annoying commentary, Mench, until I go over the multiple layers of this plan."
Mench didn't say a word; her narrowed eyes did all the talking.
"Done leering at me? All right, you two will need to get a list full of items down in Rome. The countryside of Italy doesn't offer the high-tech equipment we need and Sicily is too much trouble. Of course, I do not expect you guys to finish in one day so please stay at the Hotel Morgana. I get a discount there and you guys can use the vault there to hold stuff that wouldn't be readily perceived as 'illegal.'" He handed them each a copy of his list. A few of the items were slightly different but the gist was the same. Still, something bugged the geeky lizard.
"But Greco," interrupted the kecleon. He lifted off his glasses and started wiping them with his lens cleaner. "Doesn't [i]she[/i] own that hotel now? The one you left behind all those years ago in that ugly event?"
"She's over it," Greco stated plainly. "While you guys do the shopping, I will be conducting some geological reconnaissance in the library and if possible from the air in Rome. Of course, I will be joining you guys tomorrow evening, so do not forget to pick me up from the airport. Any questions?"
"Let's see... 2kg TNT and seven detonators. I see lessons are hard learned" Melissa scoffed at the use of explosives, especially since she had the power to provide the rock-breaking function with safety in mind. "IF you recall your incarceration, you blew up about 6 blocks causing injury to hundreds of people and destroying property. A foreign government is still looking for you because of your past."
"Look, the explosives and the subsequent damage was not, is not, and never will be my fault," he retorted.
"But you plead guilty," she remarked under her breath.
"Mel, I did the calculation for these explosives," Kaz Jergan piped. "We will need them underwater where their power will not be diluted as much as yours would be. Trust me on this one. The artifact is likely located near the center of the Mediterranean so we will need to scuba dive off the coast of Sicily to get even close to the location."
"Thanks for the wrap-up, Kaz. Ok, any questions? No one?"
For a moment, neither raised their hands. It was a day in heaven when neither of them had any questions, comments, disagreements or suggestions. Surely, one of them would comment about the sheer simplicity of the plan. After all, this was their fourth attempt at income for this fiscal year. He started to breathe a sigh of relief. Greco remembered how Mench would always remind him of their winter expedition to Colombia to hunt down some Incan artifacts. No one supposedly knew about the vast collection of pottery and statues still unearthed in the forests. In black market circles, however, word travels fast. He could barely withstand the shock when he and his partners arrived at their destination only to discover plenty of Colombian personnel surrounding the area of the dig as well as army trucks full of Incan souvenirs. When Kaz got the bright idea of stealing from the trucks, the Colombians opened fire on the poor hunters. They paid approximately fifty grand to bribe their passports back from the authorities.
Sometimes, even the more agreeable Kaz was not above mentioning their Lesotho ordeal. Lesotho, a small country nestled inside of South Africa was home to the Khosian hunter-gatherers. Apparently, there were artifacts left behind from a massacre in the Leribe region of the Khosa hundreds of years earlier and an agent of some museum wanted to collect some of that for an exhibit about ancient and modern genocide. Of course, after the Colombian failure, he was eager to make back the money and everything went according to plan... except for the original contract. The cost of unearthing these artifacts were exasperated by local government officials seeking handouts, vandalism by local children, erosion by heavy rains, and demoralization by the net result. The artifacts totaled less than $2500, yet it cost twenty-fold to prepare the goods for transfer of title. Since the contract called for the agent to pay fair value for the goods, The Raiders had no choice but to take a disastrous loss. Melissa would have been all over Greco for this one, except that she took charge of finances.
"Seriously no questions?" Greco asked once more in disbelief.
"I have none." Melissa said finally. She had been anxiously rubbing on her iron "horn" for the last ten minutes, restraining herself from making longer comments. The lack of speaking was almost too much for her to bear.
"But I do have a comment" she continued anyway. "This mission just doesn't give me a good vibe. This little deep-sea thing in a paradise reminds me about... that last request we got from Mr. Yuca the "Shoe lover." You remember. I'm sure you both remember. Right?" Her eyes watered a bit and she rubbed her horn soothingly.
Of course, they remembered, but the details are a bit different depending on who one talked to. For Delaney and Jergan, an aggressive inferno engulfed their vessel and left them stranded at sea for two days. A rival of theirs had attacked them in the night on their way from Hawaii to Nihau. Neither of them could have seen the attack coming. Just as they were getting ready to settle in for the night, two sea-lanes dropped incendiaries on the deck. They fought to stomp it out but the flames were unquenchable. They soon realized that Melissa was stuck below deck and struggled to get her through the fire and off the boat. By the time rescue boats reached them, Melissa suffered from dehydration and 3% coverage second-degree burns on her back. She ended up hospitalized for an extra week. No one ever wants to bring it up.
"That one started with a simple plan, too. You managed to stir up trouble there and I almost died in a fire at SEA!"
The two guys pulled in close to her and patted her on the back.
"Look, this is a tough line of work," said the grovyle quietly. "Hitches are bound to happen, but I trust you guys enough to know you will do your best to remedy the situation." Kaz nodded in agreement.
They paid for their lunch and returned to the cabin. Melissa and Kaz picked up the money, shopping lists and the appropriate transport containers and took off on a speed train to Rome while Greco sat down and started arranging for tomorrow's research.
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Moutons Insensibles
Draco stumbled into his little office not too far from the MNL Airport, tired from an evening of celebration with fellow pilots. His vintage WWII aviator goggles laid on his head off-kilter and his shoulders barely clung to his bomber jacket. In his hand, he had an Air Force Cap as well as two Cuban cigars. His cheeks were rosy red from inebriation and happiness. As he shuffled over to his desk, he kicked off his shoes into some far corner and tossed his jacket and cap on the coat rack. The bagon floated like a feather into his comfy chair and tuned his music system to "NY Rush" by The Seatbelts.
A shelf nearby held his flight school certificates, his business license, and a suitcase full of money. He had almost lost track of how much money he garnered from his one deal with Delaney and the others. Was it 50K or 60? It didn't really matter. It was really just a lot of money to him.
"One step closer to my dreams," he thought, quietly gazing at his money. Soon, he heard a light rap on the door to his office, in spite of his music.
"Come on in!" he said in the loudest voice he could before chuckling to himself. Soon, the door swung wide open, revealing a flaafy woman. Eliza Morneau had been following him all night but said little of anything to him until visiting him at his office. She seemed right out of the old comic book detective stories, wearing the latest Parisian styles, a black hat, soft black gloves and a stunning black dress that glittered in the moonlit office. Around her shoulders, synthetic fur of unknown origin hugged her curves and gently rest inside her elbows. Her lips were slightly pursed and a visible mole seemed to match the overall look. The light glow of her face, through rosy red like his, belied any malevolent intentions.
"Welcome to the future home of Blue Sky Inc., a privately owned international transportation business featuring private jets that can take you to any destination in the world in first class style. I am future Air Force Pilot Draco Bathings at your service, madam. May I offer you a token of my appreciation for your formal wear?" He was still on the hill of non-sobriety.
"Merci, monsieur pilot." She smiled politely as she curtsied. "I see that something marvelous has happened to you this night. May I ask what you are celebrating?" She moved to sit opposite him, but sat askew so that she would face him at an angle.
"Well, miss, I have stumbled upon the greatest opportunity I could have to enjoy my dream of being an Air Force pilot all the while having a nice cus..." he stopped himself short. For a spit moment, he glanced over to the stand where the case of money was stored then back at the woman in front of him. He quickly sobered up when he noticed her following his gaze. Did she notice him glance at the briefcase? "Um, are you here for a flight or something?" he asked, in a businesslike manner. "If so, I can direct you to one of my associates. I am in no condition to fly."
"Of course..." She sighed a bit. She accidentally drew his suspicion and now had to switch gears. She stood up and moved to leave, glancing over her shoulder. "It's not polite, monsieur, to turn down a customer." She moved back towards him and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs and leaning in towards him, her cleavage teasingly revealed. However, her eyes drew his attention more so than any other part of her body; they seemed cold and domineering.
"Well now, you don't really want to kick me out of your office, do you?" She dropped her badge in his lap. "I could make your life rather miserable otherwise."
"I...I...Interpol! Please leave my establishment." He pleaded and begged her to leave his premises but she just encroached on his personal space with those harsh dark brown eyes, deaf to his complaints. She was too tired and just a bit tipsy to continue with the façade.
"Now then, transport any [i]criminels[/i] lately, monsieur?" she barked.
"Cri-mi-what?"
"[i]Criminels[/i] Bathings, [i]Criminels[/i]! Dr. Greco Delaney? Mr. Kaz Jergan? Mrs. Melissa Mench?"
"No, no, and no! Now get out! Part of my company policy is that I do not divulge the private information of clientele without an information warrant."
He gained an advantage over her, but she wasn't going to back down without a fight. She pulled away from him and quickly scooped up his precious suitcase of dreams. She laughed quietly to herself as she watched his eyes follow the suitcase and his muscles tensing up.
"Give... that... back...," he said, his voice rising in anger and frustration. He stood up rather gradually as she continued to taunt him with the case. He started to approach but then she stuck out an electrified arm. Her dress cast a haunting reflection of the light emitted from the electricity, making her almost glow like earlier, except instead of beauty, one could help but shy away from her.
"Imagine if I burn this box. It is money in here, [i]oui[/i]? If it burns, your dreams end right here because you refused to talk about your dealings. Looks like it's carrying quite a bit." She smiled and started increasing the strength of her electricity. The smell of burning quickly filled the air.
"Wait!" he finally said, head hung in shame. "I'll talk."
Satisfied, she tossed down a notepad and a pen. "Please, write down the details and tell me where you dropped them off, monsieur? Oh I do have a warrant for questioning but I felt magnanimous today. I didn't want to take the fun out of your celebrations and take you back to Paris." She set that at the edge of the table and laughed.