Life as a New Hire Ch. 31

As we preparing to transition from the station to the attached terminal, looking for the bus line that would connect us to the BH safe house in the Kőbánya (X) District, our attackers were dismounting their vehicles from across the street as well as to our left and right. They were dressed like cops. Had they been armed like cops...

"Oh look," I snickered to Pamela, "I see a whole bunch of heavily armed people coming our way."

"Good for you," Pamela muttered. "Your eyes are still working."

"Do you think they are here to raise me up on their shields and proclaim me 'Prince'?" I joked.

"I think they are here to kill us," Pamela grinned.

"I prefer to think positively," I grinned back.

"I am positive they are here to kill us," Pamela laughed. It had to be our relaxed demeanor that confused them.

Had we been the droids they were looking for, we wouldn't have been chatting in the open with our bags in our hands. That would have made us crazy - and they would have been right. We were crazy alright and there was a method to our madness. It was mid-afternoon, yet there were plenty of average Hungarians wandering about.

Sure, they saw the 'special cops' closing in. They didn't see the upcoming shoot-out because that was plain nuts. A gun battle in a modern metropolis in broad daylight? London yesterday was an aberration, not the new normal. Our impromptu plan was to let the killers get as close as possible to limit the collateral damage.

This wasn't classic Amazon training. It was a concession to allies who did care about civilians killed in the cross-fire. The oncoming hit squad was finally putting faces to targets when Odette broke the calm before the storm. All she did was squeak when Vincent pushed her behind a kiosk. Riki took Virginia shifting her to cover in silence.

Delilah took off at a dead-run to the south-east. They were raising their shotguns and assault rifles. We were drawing our pistols. Normally this would have been an unequal match, except that in the time period where, in their eyes, we had gone from bystanders to targets, they'd also covered a good deal of ground - to the point that they were out in the open while my fighting band was in close proximity to all kinds of cover.

It started out as eighteen to twelve. Pamela, Chaz and Selena quickly cut down those odd by five. Me? I didn't try to shoot and run at the same time, so I made it to cover and was stuck there by our opponents use of fully-automatic fire.

My lack of martial prowess could be forgiven by the reality I was the one they were trying to off. My greatest contribution to this skirmish was tossing my SPAS-12 to Chaz so he could use something more than his standard military issue Glock-17. I had barely gotten Chaz's appreciative nod when two grenades went off in close proximity to me.

At first, I heard and felt nothing. My eyes were having trouble focusing. When my limbs began to orient themselves, I had to fight down the instinct to move. I was lying down, which was far safer than staggering around in the middle of this hail of lead. The twin grenades turned out to be their second and very fatal mistake on this mission.

The first had been their delay in identifying my group. The second - using the stun grenades - did put me, Pamela and Selena out of commission temporarily. But their mistake was having misplaced my six Amazons in this mess they had created. They did have thirteen shooters versus Chaz, Virginia and Vincent. They rushed our position using the classic advance while firing rote.

Two meters from me, the six Amazons revealed themselves with five P-90's and one big-ass bow. Four escaped the kill zone only to find themselves flanked by Delilah. Her .480's, combined with their confusion, finished off the survivors. That wasn't the end of it. We still had to effect our get-away.

I was still getting my head on straight as the ladies decided to hotwire some of the deceased men's rides and get us the heck out of Dodge. Recovery brought with it the knowledge that Virginia and Chaz had been shot. Pamela, Selena and me ... we had some scrapes and bruises. Everyone else checked out. Mona let us know that she could handle the wounded. They wouldn't be doing jumping jacks for a week or two, but a hospital was not required. On the downside, no one believed that eighteen killers dressed as cops randomly rolled up on our transit point by accident. The only people who knew about our change in travel plans had been the Black Hand. We'd lied to the US.

We broke into an abandoned factory to stash the vehicles and make our next plan. Selena was coldly furious. Not only did she come to the same conclusion we had - the Black Hand had set us up to be murdered - we weren't letting her call in. Wiesława and Charlotte kept their guns pointed at her, so low was our level of trust.

Chaz was pretty much of the opinion that Selena should be coerced to provide us with the names and locations of the Black Hand involved so that we could do our own 'fact finding tour'. Oddly, none of the Americans asked to be pulled out. Vincent and Riki wanted to let the US Embassy know what had happened, yet were willing to wait until we were secure somewhere first.

Rachel was on board with Chaz's idea...with the addendum that they kill every Black Hand they could get their hands on before fleeing the city. They had tried to kill ME after all. I was touched. It was Pamela who put things in perspective.

1) The attackers were not Black Hand, they were mercenaries and that pointed a bloody finger at the Condottieri.

2) Selena wasn't a fanatic and her life had been in as much danger as anyone else's. She wasn't part of our ambush. Her buddies had tossed her under the bus.

3) It would have been far easier to catch us in that convoy they'd tried to stick us with. Caught in pre-planned crossfires and without our heavier weapons, we would have all died.

4) Having failed to deliver us to the pre-planned ambush site, the Condottieri had to rush to our metro stop because...the safe house they had prepared for us wouldn't have worked. We had the numbers to allow us take total charge of our security once we were in place. No, gauging our numbers, this traitor had sent the mercs into a straight-up fight they'd just lost.

Pamela's conclusion: the Black Hand had a double-agent in the Condottieri. To up his/her credibility, he/she had been given the information which they had used to attempt to have me killed. Less we forget, the Black Hand was a murder-for-hire organization. If we accepted Pamela's conjecture, what was our next course of action?

The Black Hand and Condottieri shared much of the same home ground, so they needed to be aware of what the much larger Condo network was up to. Long term, they thought that losing me and Selena was worth the insight they would gain into how the Condo's worked. Understandable, unless you were me and mine.

It is said you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. That may be true, except this Fehér mén was being led to water by Pamela and I took the plunge. I pulled Riki aside and asked for a favor. I wanted her to contact the State Department over an unsecure line and inform them that 'our' double agent had alerted us to the ambush and we were all fine.

The open, fearful look in her eyes said it all. If she made that report, someone was going to die. She was a human being whose actions were going to result in another human being dying - most likely in a bad manner. She was also a human being who had had a gun pointed at her. They'd shot at her, her life had been in danger and by the grace of more combative individuals, she'd been saved.

She might not be able to identify with the Amazons, or the Brits (soldiers), but Virginia had taken three bullets keeping her safe. The ballistic vest stopped two, giving her some titanic bruising, while the third had clipped her arm. Virginia had bled for her. Vincent was determined and grim. Odette was still rather shocky.

And all of that was the fault of the cock-sucker I was asking her to set up now. She made the call, making a very understated reference to their 'source' inside the 'opposition' that had exposed the ambushers in time. Her testimonial would take some time to filter to the 'wrong' hands. Excellently done.

Why did I have Riki do it? We understood the reasoning of the Black Hand action. We were fucking them over because NO ONE did that to the Amazons - period - end of statement. Pamela radiated pride. On second glance, so did Rachel and Delilah. They knew I was a nice guy. Now I was a nice guy who would defend and avenge his own - them.

After we left the abandoned factory and moved to a fourth location, I asked that Selena contact her superior to figure out how we could rendezvous and get to a safe place. He was unhappy, she was unhappy and she let him know we were unhappy. Another guide was sent our way and thirty minutes later, we found ourselves in an old Communist-era apartment block.

Think of Chicago's Cabrini Green from the 1980's, but built with less inspired labor and you could visualize our surroundings. The neighborhood screamed of poverty, high crime and a poor police presence. Chaz described it as a 'low intensity war zone' where ethnic Hungarian, Serbian, Bulgarian, Croat and Romany street gangs regularly scarred the landscape with their graffiti.

Matthias, the local head of the Black Hand, kept us waiting until after dark. His excuse was the problems we'd created.

"You are lucky I don't hand you over to the Rendőrség (National Police)," he menaced us once he'd scoped out our cramped quarters. I was thinking about how to approach this coolly.

"You are the one responsible for our safety, Asshole," Riki got in his face (he was actually sitting at one of the three chairs in the tiny kitchen space. Matthias pulled out a stiletto blade from somewhere and put it to Riki's throat.

"I don't know you, don't like you and see little reason to put up with your insults," he replied casually.

I pushed off the wall slowly and started walking toward Matthias. He pricked Riki's throat, stopping me.

"That is neither necessary, nor friendly," I countered. "We are supposed to be building bridges."

"Right now you are utilizing my resources to no good end I'm aware of," he mused.

"Is there someone else we can talk to?" I pleaded.

"No," Matthias scoffed. I nodded then looked to the closest of his two bodyguards.

"Is there someone else I can talk to?" I addressed the man. I turned my body as I did so, unmasking Pamela who placed a silenced .22 round into Matthias' skull via his right eye.

The man's brains turned to mush and he slumped over, dead.

[Hungarian] "Is there someone else I can talk to?" I repeated to the bodyguard. He stared at me. "You know that Matthias set us up. We don't blame the Black Hand, just him. He thought being in the 9 Clans would protect him - it didn't. Now, do you want to talk, or leave?"

Bodyguard #1 looked at #2.

[Hungarian] "They will let you leave without conflict," Selena spoke up. "They will honor my agreement with the Vizsla." The two men started backing out. The Vizsla was the Head of the nearest Black Hand Chapter - similar to an Amazon Head of House.

[Hungarian] "Take the body with you," I requested. They cautiously returned, grabbed Matthias under each arm and dragged him away.

[Hungarian] "We will be in touch," the lead bodyguard stated. It wasn't meant to be a threat.

[Hungarian] "Selena, you can leave with them, if you wish," I said.

[Hungarian] "I'm okay," she relaxed. Once they left, she looked at Pamela. [English] "Very smooth. I didn't even see it until too late."

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Riki blathered. Odette ran to her side and help her into a free chair. "I almost got killed. I mean, I looked into his eyes and I knew he was going to kill me. What have I gotten myself into?"

The poor woman was trembling uncontrollably.

"I think the lesson here is that the only people we can rely on are each other - no one else," Vincent stated.

"He was going to kill me," Riki cast about. I went and knelt beside her.

"The second that man threatened your life, he was dead, Riki. No one does that to any member of the team. You do your part and we'll keep you safe," I patted her hand. Running away to the safety of the embassy would have been so easy for her. I wanted her to stay. The choice had to be hers.

"You really killed him?" Riki whispered.

"Deader than Hell," Odette piped up. "Crossing one of Cáel's ladies is the fast track to the Autobahn of Pain," she boasted on my behalf. That statement grabbed Riki's attention.

"Who are you again?" Riki inquired.

"I am Odette Sievert," my bed buddy smiled.

"What do you do? What are your skill sets? Who are you with? Why are you here?" came next.

"Oh... Cáel met me at a restaurant where I was a waitress. I slept with him that night. A week later, I stopped going home and I've been with him ever since."

"I thought he was engaged to Hana Sulkanen?" Riki was puzzled.

"Oh, he is. I'm his fuck-buddy and his least crazy female friend," Odette clarified. Pause. "I'm a high-school graduate too."

"But why are you here? You don't even have a gun," Riki kept babbling.

"I don't know how to use a gun yet, or martial arts, or all those nifty weapons the rest of this troupe use, but I'm going to one day. Right now I'm here because Cáel is pretty stressed about his trip to see Aya...and I wanted to go on one of Cáel's adventures," Odette confessed.

"So...you are the comedic side-kick?" Riki blinked.

"Hmm...sure, that sounds good," Odette smiled. "Wait! In honor of our quest to Transylvania: Have you ever heard the story of the female vampire and male werewolf who fell in love with each other? They had to fight the opposition of their families and other people, they even lost friends but in the end they got married and lived happy together for a time."

"Yes?" I asked.

"But tragedy came when the werewolf died suddenly the day they celebrated 25 years of marriage," Odette faux-frowned. "Does anyone know why?" We looked around.

"Silver anniversary?" Vincent guessed.

"Yes," Odette exulted. "The autopsy determined the werewolf couldn't withstand their "Silver anniversary." Groans went around the room. Odette seemed inordinately pleased with herself. "Wait! I've got more," she pleaded. I hugged her. The French kiss was a welcome addition. The 'outsiders' took their second deep breath.

Some things were sinking in. Pamela. Everyone had seen her as a quirky, unique gray/white-haired pony tailed lady, constantly joking with me. She was that. She was also a remorseless killer. Matthias had screwed up twice and that was all it took for him to become a corpse. Delilah and Virginia had gone down that road once with her already at the Summer Camp.

It was a chilling reminder that Pamela dispensed death effortlessly and with swift precision. Chaz appeared more at ease after that revelation. If he had any doubt that the majority of his companions were consummate professionals, the last six hours had dispelled them. As long as we were on the same side, he was in good company.

Virginia and Vincent were still law enforcement, so Matthias' execution was disturbing. In context, it was also something they could live with. The man had been a human predator, Riki's life had been in danger and the danger had been dealt with without risk to Riki. They weren't about to advocate sidewalk executions for jaywalking, but the outcome was acceptable.

Riki...was more happy to be alive than anything else. In a perverse way, she was more onboard with the program than before Matthias had shown up. Why? We had killed someone to protect her. Unlike the impersonal firefight at the Metro 3 station, this had been upfront, in her face. There had been no angry words and escalating tensions.

Her 'team' felt her life was being threatened and they removed that threat. In the annals of Foggy Bottom, she'd heard about those kinds of 'Cold War/Terrorist' encounters. Saigon, Tehran, Benghazi...all places were State Department personnel had been in life and death circumstances. Now she could add Budapest to that list...though she knew she couldn't.

This mission had 'Plausible Deniability' written all over it. If she did survive this, her outlook on those late night drinks with other members of the Foreign Service would be very different. There were no 'exciting shootouts' and 'pulse-pounding races for freedom'. Her new experiences had demolished those quaint Hollywood notions. No, Riki had decided that the next person to put her at risk should end up being dead just as fast as Matthias snuffed it.

After those introspections, we had to grapple our next two problems (meeting our contact had been task one). Our 'safe house' had enough food for four people for three days. We needed more food.

Like all great espionage missions, we decided to split up and look for clues. Not really. Pamela wanted to get the lay of the land and Rachel wanted to get more food. I wanted to go with Pamela - I was wired, so she took me, Delilah (she was supposed to be keeping an eye on me) Saku (because we didn't want to fight her off) and Selena (ditto, plus we didn't trust her).

Mona had to stay to tend to Virginia and Chaz. Rachel wanted Charlotte to check the wiring for the place as well as figure out which walls we could blast through if horizontal mobility became a question. Riki was in no shape to go anywhere. Vincent would have to stand watch over the rest. That meant Odette and Wiesława were going out with Rachel and Tiger Lily on a food run.

(The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo)

Fate is a bitch who has my life on speed-dial, or I'm exceptional luck for other people ... which I pay for in blood - take your pick. Rachel and I were in phone contact every ten minutes to be on the safe side. Close to our domicile was the local Red Light district. It was several blocks of prostitutes with the added bonus of an open air black market.

The place was a monument to moral depravity, criminal enterprise and human misery. The cops were blatantly bought and paid for (or scared), the streetwalkers too young, too strung out, or too burned out to care. I could buy any weapon from a switch blade to that one guy who swore he could get me an RPG-16 and 4 warheads.

Drugs of every stripe, bootleg DVDs, dog-fights and blood sports were all being hawked. For a pittance, I could beat a homeless guy into unconsciousness. It was also a tourist Mecca for things illegal and illicit - a bit of a 'walk on the wild side'. It wasn't that the tourists were all that safe either.

Everyone was in danger from the street gangs; and on the top of that rubbish heap were the Romano (that's male gypsies to the less ethnically sensitive). Like the Amazons, they were pretty immune to penetration by their enemies, had a callous disregarded for the rest of humanity and made good use of their small numbers.

That was where the similarities ended. They were a gang of thieves, thugs and pimps - criminal entrepreneurs. Their threat came from the most organized and ruthlessness, not from any real martial skill. They had a unique language which they causally bantered about in. Why Grandpa Alal knew it, I don't know, but he did.

As I said at the start, The Great Weave of Fate has my ass on speed-dial. We found an eatery open this late and were learning why it was open at 11 pm in this neighborhood. The gang would have wrecked the establishment if the owner had tried to lock the doors. His, his wife and niece served up the palatable, cheap fare with nervous smiles.

Two older Romano and a younger punk, close to my age, had a table close to the door. When Mom came out to deliver their orders (the rest of us had to go to the counter), they kid wasn't happy with it. He pushed Mom aside and went back to the kitchen to retrieve the young lady. For some 'unknown' reason, the whimpering, struggling girl was not enamored with his charms.