A Little Night Music Ch. 22

Maria searched for a word before answering.

"Manageable," she said at last. "Your advice has worked out very well. 'Once they understand who's in charge, your advisers will do most of the work for you. Keep an eye on them, and you can concern yourself with more important matters. After that, the job's largely about looking beautiful for photo ops, and you're already covered there, young lady.'"

Maria's smile broadened. So did Helena's.

"I always knew you could do it, Maria. You come from the blood of our greatest ruler."

"You've been thinking a lot about him lately," Maria said, putting her hand on Helena's shoulder. "I've seen you having your alone time with the paintings. I miss him too."

"I may be there more often, now that the collection is complete, but yes; I've been missing him a lot since..." Helen tried to search for a better phrase than 'the day I got stabbed.' It ended up coming out as "... the day I almost went to be with him."

Helen saw Maria's eyes begin to water and wrapped her arms around her great-granddaughter.

"I wouldn't have left you alone, Dearest One. I didn't see the bright light and hear him and Propappou calling like I expected. Like everyone says. I saw... something else."

"I would have been sad," Maria said, half muffled by her face being buried in Helena's good shoulder. "But I would not have been alone. I would still have Stavro. And the rest of La Familia."

Helen let out a small laugh at that.

"The 'Sackville San Finziones,' who were probably praying for my death that day? Vincenzo was right about them. 'Put them over on the corporate side, where we can at least TRY to harness their greed and power lust for the benefit of The People.' They would have been back here in seconds, pocketing the silverware and anything shiny, like they did with him."

Maria looked up with love and a touch of anger on her face. She knew that everything that Helena was saying was true, but still didn't like hearing ill of La Familia de San Finzione. Helena gave her a little smile and changed the subject.

"Maria, do you know what your Great-Grandpapa used to say about you? He called you 'the last little piece of me that will remain in this world after I am gone.' And that thought has been on my mind; that you really are the last of his line. He and I would have been happy to give you a grandfather or grandmother." Her smile started to fade. "We never thought to have him 'frozen.' We knew we didn't have forever, but we..." Tears began to trail from her eyes. "Always HOPED we'd have more time..."

It was Maria's turn to hug Helen.

"That is not true, Great-Grandmama. I am not the last piece of him. I see the piece left in your heart."

"Forever does he reign in our hearts." Helen whispered through her tears.

Maria kissed her on the cheek and held her closer.

"Just as you will forever reign in mine." Maria sighed. "But I understand the thing that you are trying hard not to say. Without another heir, La Familia is finished." She looked at Helena with a determined gaze. "I am the last of the bloodline. He will not appreciate the break in tradition, but he will adjust. In the morning, I shall propose marriage to Stavro."

Helen broke the hug and rose to her feet. The pain of her wounds reminded her that it was too soon for a sudden movement like that, but she carried on.

"No, Maria! Not like that. One day, if you and Stavro wish to marry, you shall have a royal wedding so grand as to surpass my own. The past few weeks aside, you've seen what's ahead of you. I want you to have a life before it becomes all about duty. Before you have to spend all of your time weighing decisions that affect the lives of the entire nation. I cannot and will not ask that of you!

"A child of my own would not be of the bloodline, but he or she would still be an heir of Vincenzo's; and would not replace you in the line of succession. I talked to Maisson earlier. He says there was no damage to my reproductive system; and that once the stitches and the pain are gone, it would be safe for me to conceive. I'm not going to get right on it..." She thought a second. "I mean, Yeah, after two weeks, I'm gonna get right at it, what I mean is that this is too important to do on a whim; it requires a great deal more thought than just this discussion, but it's on my list of priorities now." She looked at Maria, still on the bed. "So, don't even think about putting it on yours, yet. We can preserve the bloodline later. Let's take care of Great-Grandpapa's legacy first."

"Ok," Maria said, smiling and standing up. "If that is what Great-Grandmama wishes, then that is what shall be. But who shall be the father?"

Helena responded with a smirk.

"Therein lies the problem," Helena said, lighting a cigarette, and checking the time. There were still a few minutes before the call. "And I suppose these'll have to go if it happens. I could tell the media, and have a line of men stretching from the bedroom door, through the castle, and all the way back to the airport. Or I could tour the globe, dating other world leaders, scientists, athletes, movie stars, etc.; until I found someone suitable. Or I could try simply NOT turning my life into some 'baby crazy' wacky comedy and accepting the obvious conclusion that I came to hours ago."

Helena walked over to the other side of the bed for her ash tray and looked Maria in the eye.

"That realistically, with him gone, there's only one man with whom I could produce an heir worthy of Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione." She took a long drag of her cigarette. "And I suspect it's going to be much harder to get a baby out of Troy Equals than a painting."

* * *

Maria had left before the phone rang at precisely 11:57 PM. The number came up Unavailable. Contessa Helena de San Finzione flipped it open and answered.

"Million bucks says you're using a voice scrambler."

"You win, Miss Parker," came the scrambled voice on the other end of the line. "How would you like that million?"

"I was thinking 'Gimme your address, and I'll exploit a dying man into making a suicide attack on you.' Seems only fair."

The voice on the other end made a mechanical-sounding chuckle.

"I presume your tech people are tracing this call. If my tech people are doing their job, they should track it to the Mars Rover. I also presume that you've not yet figured out who I am, Helen."

"Well, you fancy yourself clever. You think addressing me by my maiden name will somehow rattle me; and on that note, despite the scrambler and all the money and schooling, a man can never scrub all the Yorkshire out of his accent. So, my money's on 'Rich Asshole Who Thinks He Can Blofeld His Way Into My Pants.' Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me there's some Shadow Chamber or Sinister Cabal behind all this, and it's not just your candy ass. Fair warning: If the answer is some fucking 'only one who might appreciate my genius' horseshit, you automatically forfeit any chance you MIGHT presently have of getting into them."

"Afraid not," he replied. "Just me. And whereas I'm sure fucking you would be the experience of a lifetime, I must be honest; a decent portion of my plan DID involve that killing you."

"Yeah, I got told I was a disappointment a lot as a kid. So, you really think Springheel is worth going to all this?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"It would appear that I am not the only one who fancies themselves clever. But yes, originally, my intention was to keep you from finding out that Springheel works, just like they promise in the video."

"Well, you fucked that one up, Yorkshire," she said, taking a long drag. "I mean, I get that's why you did it, but why go to all the trouble of dragging the Triads into it, tracking down a deaf man to kill me, blowing up the Ministry? 'Why me, in particular' I guess, would be my question."

"The first was to see if the legends about Contessa Helena de San Finzione were true. That she has a way of wrangling the wills of men. Beyond how all women are able to do so, that is. That no man or woman can resist her charms; that she strides up to every negotiation table knowing what she wants, and strides away with all of it. If that's who she is, why hasn't she simply stridden onto television and conquered the world by now? Given your troubled past, I thought 'Sex Trade: That's how to get her attention!' You've probably realized by now that this isn't Raymond Chen."

"Heh," Helena replied. "Figured that one out in my sleep. No, really, I'm not bragging. That is exactly what I did."

"I had Morgan ready to go in case I was correct that it's in how one hears your command, so being unable to hear it at all would protect someone from your little talent. I might have sent him anyway, though. The attempt still would have caused you to cancel that meeting, and it would have been a shame to waste a man so willing to throw his life away for money."

"I'd already concluded most of that. You filled in a gap or two. Ya know, you helped. Oh yeah! While I've got you on the line: The little glass vial; we never did find out what was in that. What was it?"

"San Finzione White Zinfandel," he answered. "I told him it was a fast-acting poison. He told me why poison on a knife is practically worthless and that it smelled like wine; I told him that there had been some advancements made in poisons since he got out of the game." Helena practically heard him shrug on the other end. "It made him feel better about the task ahead of him. The final part of the answer to your 'why you' question, Miss Parker, is because I wanted Springheel for myself, because only a handful of people stood a chance of getting it out from under me, and because I knew you would be the most formidable competition."

"And you would've gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for those meddling Ultimados. Now, I'm still alive, I want it more, and you know I'll get it." She thought a moment. "Wanted. Past tense. So, you don't want it anymore?"

"No, Miss Parker. I wanted it because I'm someone who likes the world just the way it is. I profit immensely from the Status Quo. A war here, a famine there, a pestilence somewhere else, it doesn't just put food on my table, it puts coke on the tits of my ten-thousand dollar whores. Heh, I'd send Christmas cards to the Four Horsemen if I could. Whoever loses, I always win.

"And I like that arrangement, Miss Parker. This Planet of the Assholes, this runaway ship, burning and sinking simultaneously, with the Three Stooges at the helm; this never-ending political/religious dick-measuring contest; I love it, and I want to keep the party going. Human nature does most of my work for me, but a balance that delicate requires protection. Springheel can upset it, or keep it just where it is. I like the second idea more, and that was why I wanted it. But now? Now I NEED it. To protect myself from you."

"I'm SO glad you already understand that! Saves me some time. Before, I thought you were going to turn out to be some evil version of me," Helen said, then thought for a puff. "Well, MORE evil, let's say. Now, I think you're the evil version of someone else I know. But please, go on."

"Would that be Troilus Equals?" The voice paused to let that sink in, then continued before she could respond. "Don't you wish real life had dramatic chords? That dun-dun- DAAAH! Just once? Now, that was an unexpected bonus: Finding out who comes running to Helen Parker's side in her darkest hour. You can skip the 'If you harm one hair' speech, I got your message in Ireland. The two of them are safe from me. That said, one of the other things whispered of her, is that Contessa Helena de San Finzione always cheats. So, I'll play nice, until you force me to do otherwise."

Helen's cigarette had gone out. She lit another to stall a second or two, to take control of herself. To come up with a response other than screaming into the phone just how very fucking dead the man on the other end was. He'd said Troy's name and "the two of them." Did he not know Susan too? How do you know Troy and Julie Equals and not know Susan Bailey? He spoke while she was thinking.

"Have I finally 'rattled' you, Helen Parker?"

"No," Helena replied calmly. "I was just waiting to see if that was the 'Big Threat' that this call was about, or if there's another one coming?"

"No. I'm thinking 'That one was pretty good. Don't ruin it by trying to top it.' Keep the phone, Miss Parker. I'm certain we'll talk again before it's time to meet. I'd hoped this would be the night we first did, though. You should check your email. They've just told us where to go if you want Springheel. See you there, Miss Parker. Ta-Ta."

Helena closed the phone. She set the burner on the nightstand and picked up her own phone. She took the rest of her cigarette out onto the balcony with her as she opened her email.

There was another email from another disposable email provider. Normally, they wouldn't have gotten past her spam filter, however, the title contained a word that any emails about should be forwarded to her. It was a question. "Springheel: Interested?" The message was blank.

She replied with a "Yes," and sent it back. Helena checked the clock: 12:08. She'd hoped Yorkshire's backup plan hadn't been to keep her on the phone for an hour so she wouldn't be able to reply in time. It would have been petty and pointless, since she had other ways to get the information if needed. She'd been considering that yes, he just MIGHT have been thinking it, and gave a little laugh when the reply came. It was entitled "Springheel: Where."

Helena opened the message. She read the single word on the screen and began to laugh. The cigarette dropped out of her mouth and rolled off the balcony as she kept laughing. Her phone dropped out of her hand as she dropped to her knees, starting to hold her side and legitimately worrying about popping a stitch as the phone landed on the balcony face up, it's screen glowing upward, toward the night sky and warm breezes of San Finzione, displaying that single word.

"Seattle"

BUT...

CONTESSA HELENA DE SAN FINZIONE

WILL RETURN

IN...

SO NIGHT FOLLOWS DAY